


The Feeling of Being in Motion Again

by seren_ccd



Series: Going to Georgia [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-18
Updated: 2009-07-31
Packaged: 2018-10-15 02:22:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seren_ccd/pseuds/seren_ccd
Summary: When Christine volunteered to cover a few night shifts in Starfleet Academy's infirmary, she thought she had some idea of what to expect.  She really should have known better.  Pre-movie at the Academy.





	1. Chapter 1

  
**Title:** The Feeling of Being in Motion Again  
**Series:** Going to Georgia  
**Author/Artist:** [](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/)**seren_ccd**  
**Pairing(s):** McCoy/Chapel UST  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Star Trek. Someone else far cleverer than me does. The titles and excerpts are from _Going to Georgia_ by the Mountain Goats.

 **Summary:** When Christine volunteered to cover a few night shifts in Starfleet Academy's infirmary, she thought she had some idea of what to expect. She really should have known better. Pre-movie at the Academy.

 **A/N:** Well, here it is. This is the first of the **Going to Georgia** series centered on Doctor McCoy and Nurse Chapel. It will follow their relationship pre, during and post-movie. At the moment, I plan to parse these out as related one-shots, but a few chaptered stories may sneak in. I hope you enjoy them as much as I've enjoyed thinking and writing about them. Please let me know what you think!

_the best thing about coming home to you is the feeling of being in motion again_

When Christine volunteered to cover a few night shifts in Starfleet Academy's infirmary, she thought she had some idea of what to expect. She'd actually been pretty keen on the idea because of the access to the lab in the back. It was quieter than the one in the Biochemistry Department and a part of her preferred to actually conduct her medical research in a place where medicine was actually practiced. Not to mention the shifts kept her credentials up to date and she was technically an enlisted nurse first and at the tender mercies of Starfleet as it was.

So she took the shifts and figured that she'd have a few people wander in with some minor injuries, a few looking for anti-hangover remedies and maybe someone looking for some last minute prophylactics. The rest of the evening she'd be free to study and use the lab.

She really should have known better.

It was 01:00 and Christine was deep into updating her research notes when she heard the commotion. She stopped reading and tilted her head to listen. There it was again. In Exam Room 2. She left the lab, absently smoothed her skirt and cautiously walked down the hallway towards the exam rooms, her soft-soled shoes silent on the floor. The light from the exam room spilled out into the previously darkened hallway. She paused a few feet away from the open door, her hand on her panic button.

"I swear Jim, this is the last time I go out drinking with you," a gruff voice said. Drawers opened and slammed. "Where the hell are the medikits?!"

"I had no idea she had a boyfriend. She didn't _tell_ me she had a boyfriend," a rather slurred voice said. "He was kinda big, wasn't he?"

"Yes, he was," the gruff man said. Another drawer slammed shut. "I should have just taken you straight to the dorms. This is the goddamn infirmary! Where do they keep everything?"

Christine decided to make her presence known, but kept her hand on her comm.

"We tend to keep everything locked away at night," she said as she entered the room. "You never know who'll start ransacking the place."

She took in the two people in her exam room. Both male, both wore rumpled, red Cadet uniforms and both stared at her in slight surprise. The one who had been making all the racket was tall with dark hair and a scowl on his slightly older face, blood on his shirt and knuckles that were beginning to swell slightly. The other one was younger, blond and when all the blood was washed off his face, and he sobered up, was probably quite pretty. Christine met the dark one's glare and asked innocently:

"Lover's quarrel?"

The pretty one on the table snorted and then groaned as the motion jarred his bloody nose.

"Oh for... Stop moving!" the dark one yelled at his friend. He fixed his glare back onto Christine. "I need a spray applicator with antibacterial solution. Leave out the anaesthetic. He deserves to feel this one."

Christine blinked.

"And you are?" she asked calmly.

"McCoy. Leonard McCoy," he answered. "I'm a doctor."

"I'm Jim," the pretty one piped up with. "You've got great legs."

She spared him an amused glance and got what could have been a charming smile if not for aforementioned blood and swelling.

"And I'm Christine Chapel, the nurse on duty," she said. She dropped the panic comm back into her pocket and faced McCoy. "And, 'Doctor', I’m afraid you'll have to let me patch up your friend. Regulations."

"Are you serious?" he asked incredulously. "I'm a fully qualified doctor!"

He slammed his bruised hand down on the counter top to punctuate his statement and somehow managed to hold in the exclamation of pain while his face contorted into a grimace.

"Clearly," Christine commented dryly. He looked like he was about to object again and she held out her hands in placation. "Look. I have absolutely no doubt that you are a doctor, but at the moment you are in my infirmary dressed in Cadet red with a bruised hand and therefore that makes you my patient."

He struggled with that for a moment; 'Jim' on the table just looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Fine," McCoy said at last. "But I'm not leaving the room."

"It never crossed my mind to ask you to," she said. "Wait here and I'll be right back."

She managed to keep the smile off her face until she reached the store room and she shook her head in amusement as she unlocked the cupboard for the medikits. She grabbed what she needed and then headed back to her patients. Halfway down the hall she started to wonder where she had heard the name Leonard McCoy before, but mentally shrugged her shoulders and entered the exam room.

McCoy stood more or less where she'd left him, but with his arms crossed over his chest and propped against the counters. Jim had lain down on the exam table; his eyes were closed and legs dangled over the side. McCoy just watched her with narrowed eyes as she walked over. Christine set the kit down on the counter next to McCoy and turned to stand beside the exam table next to his friend.

"Well, Jim, here we go," she said. His eyes remained closed. "I'm going to need you to sit up."

"Don't think I can," Jim mumbled. His eyes opened and his mouth quirked a little. "'Sides, I do some of my best work horizontally."

A muffled 'Oh, Christ' came from McCoy's direction.

"Jim?" Chapel asked with a patient smile.

"Ye-es?" Jim drawled, his mouth turned into a full-on grin. Christine dropped her smile.

"Sit up," she ordered.

Jim sat up. Slowly and with a groan that was probably not for effect. He glanced over at McCoy.

"You could have given me a push," he complained.

"Hey, I'm off duty," McCoy said. He nodded at Chapel. "Nurse's orders. You're on your own."

Jim sighed and faced Christine. She began by gently pressing his cheekbones and jaw, and then moved up to his nose.

"You don't use a scanner?" McCoy asked in a curious tone.

"For some things," she answered her attention still on the bones she was feeling under her fingers. "I was trained initially for emergency medicine and you don't always have time to set up a scan. I prefer the tactile approach."

"Refreshing outlook," he said, his tone close to respectful.

"Actually, it's kinda painful," Jim said, he winced away from Chapel's prod of his nose, but with her firm hand on his chin, he didn't get far.

"Well, Cadet," she said. "Your nose is not broken, so I won't have to pop it back in, but you're going to have a lot of swelling for a day or two."

"That's what Bones said," Jim said. At Chapel's confused look, he jerked his thumb in McCoy's direction. "He's Bones. All he's got left."

Chapel looked over her shoulder at McCoy who just rolled his eyes.

"Okay," she said with a small smile as she let go of Jim's face. "Let's get this blood off of you first, then I'll give you an antibiotic injection and something to reduce the swelling."

As Christine got out the gauze from the kit, loaded up the hypospray and the applicator, she was terribly conscious of McCoy watching her. She decided to ignore him and went back to Jim and began to clean the cadet's face. She was halfway finished when she became very aware that the kid was smirking at her. She raised her eyebrows in response.

"You're very pretty," he said, his blue eyes still hazy with alcohol. "You have very soft hands. And you smell like, like..."

He leaned into Christine's space and inhaled a little and then smiled triumphantly.

"Cookies!" he said gleefully. "You smell like cookies!"

Christine stared at him in amusement. McCoy groaned. Jim just continued to grin.

"It's highly attractive," Jim explained.

"Well, you're very drunk," she said slowly and matter-of-factly as one might if they were speaking to a three year old. "You have a swollen nose and a black eye. And, you smell like an alley behind a bar. It's highly _un_ -attractive."

She took a strange amount of satisfaction in hearing the snort that came from McCoy's direction and the sight of the crestfallen look on Jim's face. However, the kid perked back up with a beaming smile.

"Does that mean you want to give me a sponge bath?" he asked hopefully.

"Jesus Christ, Jim," McCoy said loudly. "Knock it off and let the woman do her job in peace."

"Fine," Jim said with a sigh. He leaned towards Christine and whispered, "You do smell like cookies, though. And your hands are a lot softer than his."

"Duly noted," she whispered back.

She finished cleaning the blood off his face and threw the waste into the bio-hazard bin. She lightly applied a thin layer of disinfectant with the applicator on the worst cut. Then took the hypospray and while Jim cringed pitifully, gave him a shot with an anti-inflammatory/antibiotic solution. Then she stood in front of him and put her hands on her hips.

"Would it fall on deaf ears to tell you not to get into any more fistfights?" she asked with narrowed eyes.

"Probably," Jim answered.

"Definitely," McCoy answered at the same time.

"Ask a stupid question," she murmured to herself. Then she addressed him again. "Could you, at the very least, hold off for a week or two to let the bruises heal?"

"I'll try," Jim answered solemnly, his eyes wide and guileless. Christine didn't buy it for a second.

She turned to McCoy who was still propped up against the counter, brows furrowed.

"Your turn," she said. "Let's see that hand."

"It's fine," he said with a glare. She just looked at him. With a grumble and a roll of his eyes, he held out his right hand. Christine held it carefully and firmly in hers and lifted it up to inspect the knuckles.

"Only mild abrasions. Extend your fingers," she directed. She felt along each digit and was satisfied that it was only bruised and not broken or out of joint. "What did you hit?"

"Guy's face," he answered mildly.

"A guy's face broke the skin?" she asked as she glanced up at his face.

"The teeth in his mouth did," he said with a rueful quirk of his lips.

"Men," she said simply. "Okay, I'm not going to need to do much, just clean the cuts and I can give you a hypospray of antibiotic if you'd like."

"I'd like," he said with feeling. "I don't know where the hell that guy's been, but it probably wasn't hygienic. I doubt his mouth has ever met mouthwash let alone a dentist."

"Understood," she said. She let his hand go and rummaged in the kit for an alcohol pad.

"I have to say," she said casually as she opened the small packet. "You're being far more cooperative than I expected."

Christine turned back to McCoy and he obediently held his hand back out.

"Well," he began; his dark eyes watched her movements intently, “the first thing one of my instructors told me at med school was never to piss off a nurse."

She smiled as she applied the alcohol soaked gauze to his slightly swollen knuckles.

"Good advice," she commented.

"Only thing the man ever said that made any sense," he said with a slight wince as the alcohol seeped into his skin.

Christine chuckled a little and carefully patted the wounded area. When she was satisfied that she'd disinfected as best she could, she loaded up another hypospray with just a standard antibiotic. She looked up and realized that even though she was hardly petite, McCoy was a rather tall man. His chest and shoulders seemed to take up a large amount of space. She smiled apologetically.

"Bend down a bit, please?" she asked. With only the faintest of smirks, McCoy complied and bent slightly and tilted his head so that his neck was bared for her.

She pressed the hypospray against his neck and depressed the solution. He grimaced.

"We can build starships that explore the cosmos and yet, we can't create a hypospray that doesn't sting like a son of a bitch," he said. His eyes flicked to hers apologetically. "Pardon my language."

Christine just smiled as she put the instrument away.

"Well, if you follow what my mother used to say, it's probably not a bad thing," she said. He raised an eyebrow at her. "She used to say that if medicine tasted good, people would just stay sick."

McCoy snorted, "Ain't that the truth."

He studied her for a moment and Christine fought the urge to pull at her skirt or straighten her hair, his gaze was so serious. He seemed to come to some internal decision and straightened up.

"What are the chances I could get a medikit or two to keep at the dorm?" he asked. Christine smiled again.

"I think I can go you one better," she said. She grabbed her PADD off the counter. "If you give me your mail account, I'll send it on to the person who arranges the shifts. I bet they’d be happy to have a doctor on call. They're always short-staffed and you can generally get a fair amount of quiet time in the night shifts. Keeps your certs in line, too."

She handed him the PADD to type his information into.

"Plus," she added. "You get fairly unlimited access to standard medikits."

"Unlimited sounds about right," he mumbled as he shot Jim a glare before he typed in his address. Christine looked over at his friend who had fallen asleep on the exam table, mouth open and arms hanging over the sides.

"Will you need a lift back to your dorm?" she asked wryly. "I can call for a taxi?"

McCoy handed the PADD back to her and shook his head.

"No," he said. "The walk'll sober his ass up."

He cringed and opened his mouth, but Christine cut him off with a raised hand.

"I get the impression that if you apologize every time you swear, we'll be here for hours," she said. "I've got a father and four uncles. I've heard it all."

"Fair enough," McCoy said with a flash of a grin, which inexplicably did things to her stomach, but his grin quickly fell into an exasperated look as he regarded his friend. He walked over and stood right next to Jim.

"Get up," he said in a normal tone of voice.

Jim's response was a groan and a twitch of his arms. McCoy sighed deeply. He leaned down and spoke loudly right into Jim's ear.

"Get up now or I will leave your drunk ass in the gutter. Again."

One eyelid slowly cracked.

"No, you won't," Jim croaked. "You only left me there for half an hour last time."

"Last time I didn't have a throbbing hand due to a punch I really didn't want to throw," McCoy said through gritted teeth. "My hand hurts, Jim. Get up."

"It was damn good punch though," Jim said as he sat up. He swayed a little and then slid off the table to his feet. He glanced over at Christine. "He wouldn't leave me in a gutter. He's a doctor."

"So I've heard," Christine said. She glanced at McCoy. "You sure you don't need that lift?"

"Yeah, we're fine," he said. He grabbed Jim's arm and started to drag him out the door. "Thanks and sorry about him."

"Don't worry about it," she said as she followed them to the front door. "It's my job. I'll forward your name to the Infirmary Coordinator."

"I'd appreciate it," he said. He looked at her with eyes that had taken on a gleam and depth to them that Christine suddenly wanted to explore. "Be seein' you, Nurse Chapel."

"I'm sure you will," she said with a grin.

"Bye!" Jim said with a wave. McCoy huffed and pushed him through the open doors. Christine watched them walk slowly down the sidewalk back to the main campus. She smiled to herself and went back to clean up the exam room.

The rest of the shift was silent. Christine finished writing up her research notes and got a good start on her Xenobiology reading. When the morning staff turned up, she left quickly and headed to her apartment situated in the staff quarters. She breathed in the scent of salt coming off the Bay. It was approaching winter and the usually temperate climate was beginning to get a sharp cool edge. Christine jogged quickly up the last few steps of her building and quickly let herself in. She thanked numerous deities daily for the fact she had a room all to herself. She dropped her PADD on the table next to her bed and dragged herself into the shower.

It wasn't until she was curled up and drifting off to sleep that she remembered where she'd heard his name before.

 

****

 

"I read your article," a calm, female voice said to McCoy.

He looked up from his notes to glare at the person who had just interrupted his train of thought. The glare lost steam when he realized that the person who'd addressed him was the nurse from the other night. The blonde one. Chapel. He'd actually expected to run into her again _(and wanted to, admit it, Leonard)_ , especially after he started to take on a shift or two in the clinic, but surprisingly hadn't. He certainly didn't expect to see her in his Xenobiology lecture class.

"My what?" he asked.

"Your article about pandemics in the 21st century," she clarified. "The section regarding the response to H1N1 made me reconsider my opinion of mass inoculations."

McCoy settled back in his chair and studied her. Intelligent eyes, clear voice and a level head; those had been the attributes that struck him that night in the infirmary and they were all present and accounted for now. Not to mention the legs; those were extremely well displayed due to the Starfleet uniform.

He may not be led around by his testes quite like Jim, but the kid was right about her legs. They were pretty great.

"Did you read it before or after I invaded your infirmary?" he asked with a smirk. She smirked back.

"Before, actually," she said. "I have a tendency to devour medical journals."

"There are worse hobbies," he commented thinking of the list of journals loaded on his own PADD on his bedside table. "What brings you to this neck of the woods?"

"I'm in the class," she said and she raised her head, as if preparing for a fight.

"You're a student?" he asked evenly.

"Yep. I'm going for my doctorate in Endocrinology," she said.

"And you're still nursing?" he asked feeling a little impressed.

"Only a few shifts a week," she said.

McCoy shook his head and chuckled a little.

"What?" she asked with a frown.

"Nothing. It's good. You going back to school," he said with a bit of a smile. "It's an admirable thing to do."

She actually laughed and the simple loveliness of it felt like sucker punch to his gut.

"How many times a day do you repeat that to yourself?" she asked with a smile.

McCoy actually let out a bark of laughter himself at her question.

"At least nine times before lunch," he answered truthfully. He shrugged. "Mid-life crisis."

"Funny, I didn't take you for being quite that old," her eyes had taken on an actual gleam.

"Well, I was always jumping ahead in class," he said with a grin that he just couldn’t stop from forming.

She grinned back and was about to say something else when the instructor walked in and told everyone to take their seats. She looked at him and indicated the seat next to him.

"May I?" she asked politely.

"Sure," he drawled. "I'll warn you though, I tend to talk back and I've never met an argument I didn't like."

"I'll take my chances," she responded dryly. She set her bag on the floor and sat down, crossing her legs primly. A lock of blonde hair fell forward as she leaned forward to retrieve her PADD and McCoy caught just a whisper of her scent.

Well, goddamn if Jim wasn't right again.

She did smell like cookies.


	2. Chapter 2

The last note of the madrigal held in the air until the conductor pinched his fingers in a flourish to signal the end. The Chorale let out a collective sigh of relief and contentment. A few people murmured to their neighbors and the conductor tapped his wand on the podium.  
  
"Very good,” he said, his antennae twitched in pleased pride. "We'll pick up on the cantata next week. Dismissed."  
  
Christine made her way over to her 'cubby' to retrieve her belongings. She breathed deeply in and out as her head felt slightly light-headed due to the exertion they had just put into the old Terran madrigal. Not for the first time, she was very happy she'd decided to use the Chorale as her elective. Christine had wanted to have at least one thing during the week that wasn't medically related and the Chorale had proven to be practically therapeutic. It was one of the only places, outside of her kitchen, that demanded her full attention and allowed her mind to focus on the moment at hand. She smiled briefly at the girl at the cubby next to hers and reached for her bag and looped the strap over her head. She idly checked her watch. It was only 1730 hours, so she had plenty of time to make her way over to the infirmary for her five hour evening shift.  
  
"It's Chapel? Right?" a voice asked nervously behind her.  
  
Christine turned around and met the even gaze of the lovely young woman from the soprano section of the Chorale.  
  
"Oh, yes! Christine Chapel,” Christine answered with a smile. "You're Uhura?"  
  
She nodded briskly. "Yes, Nyota Uhura."  
  
"It's nice to meet you," Christine said. She felt a little puzzled at the Cadet coming over to her. She knew who she was; an up and coming on most of the academic lists, with the Communications track, if she remembered correctly. She was also the Chorale's Vice President. This was the only 'class' they shared.  
  
"Oh, yes, likewise,” Uhura said. Her hand twisted the strap of her own bag and Christine was struck by the impression that Cadet Uhura was nervous. It didn't sit well on the young woman, so Christine decided to put her at ease.  
  
"I thought your solo last week was beautiful," Christine said in a friendly tone. "You have wonderful range."  
  
"Oh, thank you," Uhura replied with a small smile. "It was a lovely piece to learn. I'm glad the director decided on it."  
  
Christine smiled back. "So am I, if only because we got to listen to it."  
  
Uhura looked down at her shoes, but Christine thought it was more a response of nerves and not necessarily humility.  
  
"But, you didn't come over here to talk about music selections, did you?" Christine questioned gently.  
  
"Umm, no, actually," Uhura said honestly. "I wanted to ask you something. But, I don't really know how to go about it."  
  
She actually winced as she said this and Christine schooled her expression to be open and welcoming.  
  
"Is it... Do you need to make an appointment?" she asked softly. She knew that most people knew she was a nurse and had helped a few people out who had felt self-conscious for one reason or another about getting medical care.  
  
"An appoint-- No! Oh no! That's not," Uhura said as she shook her head, "that's not it at all. I'm really not doing this right."  
  
She looked so fed up with herself and her eyes kept darting around, so Christine decided a change of venue was probably best.  
  
"Would you like to go outside?" Christine asked. "I'm headed towards the infirmary for a shift. But I have a few minutes, if you'd like to walk a bit?"  
  
"Yes," Uhura said with a sigh of relief. "Outside is good."  
  
"Okay," Christine said with a smile. They headed towards the door, they said good-bye to a few people as they left, but soon emerged into the hazy, late afternoon sun. Both women automatically turned their faces towards the sky and breathed in the air. They caught each other's eye and smiled sheepishly.  
  
"I love the Chorale," Uhura said with a wry grin. "I really do. And I understand the need for sound proof walls, but does the classroom have to be completely without windows?"  
  
"Tell me about it," Christine said in commiseration. "I always feel the need to inject myself with Vitamin D before I even enter the room."  
  
Uhura grinned fully. They strolled along the sidewalk in companionable silence for a minute.  
  
"Okay," Uhura finally said. "I'm just going to ask. And tell me if this is totally inappropriate or out of bounds."  
  
Christine glanced over at the Cadet with wide eyes. She'd been merely curious before. Now, she was highly intrigued.  
  
Uhura took in a deep breath and let it out. "I can't cook."  
  
"I'm sorry?" Christine was highly confused. "You can't cook?"  
  
"No, not at all," Uhura said taking Christine's statement of surprise for a question. "I mean, I'm truly hopeless in the kitchen. My mom more or less gave up trying to teach me after a while."  
  
"O-kay," Christine said slowly. "Why-"  
  
"Why am I acting like a crazy person and telling you this?" the other woman said with a wry quirk to her lips.  
  
"We can start there," Christine said with a quirk of her own lips.  
  
Uhura sighed. "I want to do something for someone. A friend. And, I've managed to find something that I think he'd really appreciate, but I always end up with a burnt pan and a mess in the common area."  
  
She stopped walking and looked at Christine pleadingly. "I remembered you made that amazing pastry for the last Chorale social and I was wondering if you could give me some tips."  
  
"Well," Christine started to say.  
  
"If you can't, it's no problem, really," Uhura said quickly. "I know you're busy and this is a really silly thing to ask-"  
  
"Cadet," Christine said cutting her off with a laugh. "I'd be happy to help. In fact, I'd be more than happy to offer up my kitchen for the venture. It's not terribly big, but I imagine it's a little better than the ones in the student housing."  
  
"Oh. Oh! Wow, really?" Uhura smiled in relief. "You would? Oh, I'd really appreciate it. I know it's stupid and--"  
  
"Stop!" Christine grinned. "Wanting to cook something for someone is never stupid. Or silly. I get the impression that this is a, um, special friend?"  
  
"No. I mean, yes," Uhura said suddenly flustered. "I mean... It's kind of complicated."  
  
"When is it not?" Christine remarked.  
  
"I just... He's really helped me and he didn't have to. He says it was just as beneficial to him and gratitude is clearly not warranted. He's only doing his duty and fulfilling the parameters of his mandate, therefore any compensation outside of a good job being done is irrelevant," she recited with a frown. Then a look of determination came over her face. "Well, he's just going to have to accept it."  
  
"Damn straight," Christine added. The two women looked at each other and grinned. "When would you like to come over? Tomorrow's Saturday and I'm free most of the day."  
  
"So am I, believe it or not," Uhura said as she brought her PADD out to check her schedule. "How about I buy all the ingredients in the morning and bring them over? Is 1000 hours too early?"  
  
"Not at all," Christine consulted her own PADD. "Why don't you mail me the recipe so I can look it over and let you know if I already have some of them in my cupboard?"  
  
"Oh, no." Uhura shook her head emphatically, her long hair swished back and forth. "I mean, I'll certainly send you the recipe, but I'll bring everything. I don't want to put you out anymore than I already have."  
  
"Would you stop it?" Christine scolded gently. "You're not putting me out. I love trying out new recipes. And, more importantly, I'm a sucker for complicated relationships and drama."  
  
"Well, in that case," Uhura said with a grin, "I'll bring the hard to find ingredients and the drama, you provide the kitchen."  
  
"Deal!" Christine said. She checked her watch. "Oh, I've got to get to the infirmary or the doctor will have a hissy fit."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you late," Uhura apologized.  
  
"Oh, I won't be late," Christine reassured her. "I just won't be early and he'll consider that enough reason to have a conniption."  
  
"Sounds charming."  
  
"You have no idea," the blonde remarked. "Send me the recipe and I'll send you directions to my apartment."  
  
"Okay," Uhura said. She met Christine's eyes and said sincerely, "Thank you, Lietenant Chapel."  
  
"You're very welcome and it's Christine," she replied.  
  
"Nyota," the cadet said with a smile. "See you tomorrow!"  
  
"I'm looking forward to it!"  
  
"Don't be too sure! You haven't seen me around appliances yet!"  
  
Nyota grinned at Christine and turned to head down the sidewalk headed towards the Communications building. Christine made her way to the infirmary with a slight spring in her step at the thought of an interesting weekend. Her thoughts slowly turned towards her shift and the spring in her step increased slightly.  
  
She told herself that her eagerness to get to the infirmary was due to the challenges Leonard McCoy often presented during their shifts together. He was better than any revision material and working with him over the last year had taught her more about what truly being a doctor entailed than her years at the hospital. He was brilliant and just watching his eyes assess a situation and then react like lightening was enough to give her chills. Intellectual chills, of course.  
  
 _So, you’re walking quickly because you like being challenged by a brilliant doctor,_ her voice in her head said sarcastically. _It has nothing at all to do with the man himself._  
  
Christine told herself to shut up.  
  
She rounded the corner and the infirmary came into view. Absently, she wondered if McCoy had bothered to check the staff schedule and noticed that she was on tonight instead of Stephens, the current bane of McCoy's existence. She was pretty sure she already knew the answer.  
  
 _He probably hasn't,_ she thought, _and he's probably giving some poor inanimate object in the infirmary the death glare. Oh, I really hope the last nurse remembered to put their slides away and didn't leave them sitting out. And to recharge the tricorders. And to straighten up the exam rooms. And, oh hell._  
  
She picked up the pace.  
  
*****  
  
McCoy stood in the supply room of the infirmary and glared at the inventory list. There wasn't anything actually wrong with it. It just happened to be at his eye level and he just happened to be in a glaring type of mood.  
  
He was not looking forward to this shift. One, he had too many assignments to do and two, it was just his brand of particular luck that Nurse Stephens was scheduled to work this shift too.  
  
God, he hated working with that man. He was absurdly fastidious. He had an aversion to any kind of medicine that meant you had to actually get out of the lab and touch the patient. And due to a rather scathing exchange that occurred between them a week ago, he now flinched whenever McCoy opened his mouth.  
  
So, McCoy glared some more at the inventory list. He heard someone enter the infirmary through the staff entrance and the glare intensified. The same someone stowed their stuff in the lab. Then the footsteps headed his way. McCoy attempted to lessen his glare into just a minor scowl. He was fairly sure he didn't succeed.  
  
"What on earth did the inventory list do to you?" a distinctly non-male voice asked. McCoy spun around to see the welcome vision of Christine Chapel with a far too amused look on her face.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded in surprise.  
  
"Oh, I'm fine, Doctor. Thank you for asking," she replied brightly, her eyes shone as she did some little maneuver that pulled her hair back. "How are you?"  
  
"Chapel," he growled.  
  
"Settle down," she said as she tucked a few strays behind her ears. "Stephens had an appointment and asked me to switch shifts with him."  
  
"Thank God," McCoy blurted out. He walked past her back towards the lab. Christine followed him and watched as he dropped onto one of the stools and took up his PADD. "The morons on the last shift forgot to recharge the tricorders, by the way."  
  
"Now see, it's those kind of statements that make it hard for me to defend you when I hear stories about the big, mean Doctor McCoy," she told him.  
  
"So, don't," he said accessing his PADD. Then, he frowned and looked at her. She had her hands on her hips. Never a good sign. "Who did you defend me to?"  
  
"Stephens."  
  
"Oh, Christ," he said dropping his PADD on the counter with a clatter. "Let me guess, he went crying to you about the discussion we had about his duties as a nurse."  
  
"Well, he wasn't crying," she answered. "But, yes. I had to do some fast talking to ease him down."  
  
"I bet," McCoy snorted. "All I did was point out his deficiencies."  
  
"You called him a whiny incompetent without the sense God gave a mule," she stated.  
  
"I did no such thing," he said emphatically. "Because if I did, I would have said 'ass'."  
  
Christine just closed her eyes and let her head drop to her chest in exasperation. McCoy allowed himself a small smirk while her eyes were shut.  
  
Then he went on. "Come on, Chapel. You know as well as I do, that boy is far better suited to research than practical medicine."  
  
She opened her eyes and pinned him with a hard stare. "Of course I do! I have absolutely no doubt that's where he's headed. But, that's why we're here. To learn what suits. We're still students at the end of the day. Just because you and I already know where we're going doesn't mean everyone else does."  
  
McCoy didn't really have an answer to that. Partly, because he _wasn't_ all that sure he knew where he was going.  
  
So, he asked instead, "Do the nurses actually complain about me?"  
  
"No, not exactly," she admitted. "It's not complaining, they just want to impress you."  
  
McCoy just looked at her. "Impress me? I'm not their goddamn instructor."  
  
"No, but you're the real deal," she explained. "You're in the top 99th percentile of the class, you graduated top of your class in med school, and you're an excellent doctor. They look up to you. So when someone they admire and respect, i.e. _you_ , yells at them and announces their flaws to the world, it hits them pretty hard."  
  
McCoy narrowed his eyes in thought. Chapel backed off and went over to the main terminal to access the duty roster. He studied her as she keyed in her security code and realized that once again, she was right.  
  
"So, you're saying I need to make nice with Stephens?" he asked grumpily.  
  
"It would be a start." She kept her eyes on the screen.  
  
"I'm not sure I'm capable of such a daring feat of diplomacy," he admitted.  
  
"Didn't your mother ever tell you, 'if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all'?" she sighed.  
  
"She told me to 'never suffer fools gladly'," he retorted. She shot him a look over her shoulder that made him grin unashamedly at her. But he acquiesced. "I'll try my hardest not to yell at the guy, how's that?"  
  
"It'll do," she said. "For now. Looks like I'm stuck with autoclaving and cleaning the lab."  
  
"What do I get?" he asked coming to stand behind her and look over her shoulder.  
  
"You get to inventory the medicine supplies and make suggestions about improving the efficiency of the infirmary," she said unaware that he was right there.  
  
"Thrilling," he said in a deadpan and if he hadn't been standing so close he might not have noticed the slight shiver and the goosebumps that suddenly appeared on her neck. But, he did. His mama also used to say, 'in for a penny, in for a pound'. So he kept his voice low and asked, "Tell me, Chapel. Do you look up to me too?"  
  
Christine turned around slowly and lifted her eyes to meet his. "Well," her voice turned low and sultry, "you are taller than I am."  
  
With a wicked smirk, she patted him on the chest and moved around him. "Have fun with the meds!"  
  
He chuckled because, really? What else could he do? He called after her, "Hey! They respect you too, you know."  
  
She stopped in the doorway and looked back at him.  
  
"Why do you think they feel they can talk to you?" he said with a shrug.  
  
Chapel considered that, then sort of smiled to herself and with a nod to him, disappeared into the surgery.  
  
*****  
  
"Alright," McCoy called out after logging the last of the antihistamines. "Got another one for you."  
  
It was the last two hours of their shift. They'd only had a few calls and two walk-ins: one female cadet with an allergic reaction to her roommate's new perfume and one male with a headache most likely due to eyestrain. They sent the girl home with a hypospray to the neck and a note to her roommate to lose the perfume. For the boy, they set up an appointment with the resident ophthalmologist and gave strict instructions to not hold his PADD so close to his face.  
  
"Name the most common symptoms of space sickness and what body system it originates in," McCoy quizzed as he walked back to the lab and sat down at the main work station to update the records. "Bonus points if you tell me the treatment."  
  
There was only the slightest of pauses, and then Chapel replied, "It originates in the vestibular system due to a change in gravitational forces. The otolithic signals react to linear accelerations to maintain equilibrioception, while the semicircular canals react to rotation."  
  
She stopped her recitation and he heard her close the door and set the timer on the autoclave unit. She emerged from the prep room, headed in his direction and began again, "The most common symptoms are dizziness and blurred vision which can lead to mild nausea. More extreme cases include severe nausea with the potential for hallucinations. If the body does not adjust on its own after a few days, the only treatment currently is sixty ccs of Inaprovaline."  
  
Christine dropped onto the stool next to him and looked at him expectantly.  
  
"Very good," he said. She was too confident in her own knowledge to actually smile at his compliment, but he noticed the gleam in her eyes that signaled satisfaction. "How's your XenBio-Chem coming along?"  
  
"Oh, delightfully. Would you like me to recite all the monomers and polymers found in Klingons?" she asked finally allowing a grin to surface.  
  
"I could think of nothing I'd like more," he grinned back.  
  
With a swivel of her stool, she turned and propped an elbow on the counter. She then launched into a recitation of the bio-chemistry of the other race while she absently arranged the slides some idiot had left out during the last shift. As usual, he was impressed. She even got the pronunciations right.  
  
She finished with a sigh and said, "No more. I'm starving."  
  
"Here, here," he said. He tapped a final entry into the main terminal. "There. Every last drug known to man recorded and verified."  
  
"Nice work, Doctor," she said as she reached for her bag and rummaged around in it.  
  
"Thank you, Nurse," he said as he grabbed his own bag to find his PADD and the protein bar he'd thrown in earlier. He unceremoniously tore the wrapping off of it and took a huge bite. He munched as he reviewed his messages. His eyes kept straying to Chapel though.  
  
She pulled out a small plastic box that was becoming a familiar accessory to her shifts. She opened it, took out the fork she also kept in her bag and began to eat her dinner which was some kind of beans and rice that smelled extremely good. She pulled out her own PADD and tapped lightly at its surface.  
  
McCoy forced himself to tear his eyes away and read the comments one of his instructors left regarding his last paper. He grumbled to himself at the pedantic phrasing the man used.  
  
"Problem?" Chapel asked. He looked up to see her still daintily eating.  
  
"Just more constructive criticism from Peterson," he said.  
  
"Ah, yes. Say no more," she said.  
  
"Man's so dense he has to take his shoes off to count above ten."  
  
"Pretty sure you shouldn't be saying that about our instructor."  
  
"Pretty sure he shouldn't be that stupid."  
  
She chuckled and McCoy felt that ridiculous surge his stomach made whenever he made her laugh. He bit ferociously at the protein bar and tried to focus on his reply to the instructor in which he refuted each and every last one of the man's claims.  
  
They continued to eat in a silence that was punctuated by an exclamation from time to time by McCoy at another error.  
  
"Oh, my goodness," Chapel said after a little while in a tone that seemed both impressed and amused.  
  
"Something wrong?" he asked looking over at her. Her fork was actually paused halfway between the box and her mouth.  
  
"No, no. Not wrong, just," she scrolled down whatever-it-was, "just very interesting."  
  
Chapel shook her head and the fork finally made its way to her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully. McCoy let out an irritated breath.  
  
"You are aware that you can't just leave it like that," he said.  
  
"It's nothing," she said after she swallowed. "I'm helping out a friend with a project and she just sent me the, ah, instructions. And it's occurring to me that she definitely likes a challenge, in more ways than one." She furrowed her brow. "That and I've never cooked with plomeek before."  
  
"O-kay." McCoy felt lost. "I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
"I know," she said in a way that she knew infuriated him. He rolled his eyes.  
  
The silence continued again. McCoy finished the piece of rubber that was laughingly called food and kept at his reply.  
  
"Cornbread?" she offered. She held up a small container that held two perfectly yellow squares.  
  
"Anyone ever tell you you're too good to be true?" he commented as he took a square. To his amazement, Chapel actually blushed. That goddamn thing in his stomach surged again.  
  
"No," she said. She ducked her head and typed something out on her PADD.  
  
McCoy grinned and took a bite. He nearly groaned out loud in pleasure at the taste of proper homemade cornbread. Sweet Lord, if he ever found out that she could make bread pudding...  
  
They finished their dinners and she went back to the wrestle with the cleaning units and he started to review for his finals.  
  
Finally, 2300 hours rolled around. McCoy stood impatiently by the door as Chapel conveyed the various calls and possible walk-ins to the late night crew.  
  
The caress of the night breeze on McCoy’s face was extremely welcome as they exited the building. From the slight sigh that escaped from Christine, he guessed she felt the same. He opened his mouth to ask her what her plans for the weekend were, but the sound of "Bones!" being called out made both of them stop and turn.  
  
Jim Kirk headed their way, dressed in civvies and sporting his traditional grin.  
  
"Evening, Bones!" he greeted. He turned to Chapel and looked her up and down with a grin. "Nurse Christine."  
  
"Cadet," she said with a humoring look on her face.  
  
"What will it take for you to come and have a drink with us?" The Jim Kirk charm was turned on to about level seven.  
  
"Hmm, a full-frontal lobotomy?" she suggested.  
  
"Ooh, don't know about the lobotomy, but I can certainly get behind the full-frontal," he leered cheerfully at her. "Or would that be 'in front' of?"  
  
Chapel just looked at McCoy helplessly. "It's better if you just don't say anything to him, isn't it?"  
  
"That's been my experience," he said blandly. "What are you doing here, Jim?"  
  
"I thought I'd find you before you had a chance to go back to the dorms and force you to come out and have a drink or ten with me," Jim said. He looked at Chapel. "Care to join us? I'm celebrating."  
  
"What are you celebrating?" she asked.  
  
Jim shrugged. "It's Friday and I haven't pissed anyone off."  
  
"Day's not over yet," McCoy grumbled under his breath as he looked at his watch. Jim just winked at him.  
  
"So, what do you say, beautiful?" Jim asked Chapel.  
  
"As much as I love watching you two drink, I've got plans for fairly early in the morning," she said. "So, thank you, but I'll be on my way."  
  
"I'll walk you home," McCoy said.  
  
She gave him a look. "You really don't have to."  
  
"You say that every time."  
  
"I mean it every time."  
  
"And I ignore you every time."  
  
She opened her mouth, but he cut her off with a, "Zip it." She glared, but miraculously didn't object anymore.  
  
"You two crack me up," Jim said with a grin. "Can I come?"  
  
The trio debated the relative merits of the Kobayashi Maru test most of the way to Chapel's apartment. Jim felt it was possible to beat. Chapel gently tried to dissuade him of that particular opinion. McCoy just called him an idiot.  
  
They reached the steps of her apartment and Jim tried again, "Are you sure you don't want to come out with us? We'll wait here while you go put on something black and slinky. I promise to totally hit on you the entire evening."  
  
"What makes you think I even own something black and slinky?" she asked with a humoring smile. McCoy just did his best to not picture her in something black and slinky.  
  
"You're hot. Of course you do," Jim said matter-of-factly. "It's the law."  
  
She just laughed and patted him on his head. "Oh, little boy."  
  
"Bones, talk her into it," Jim urged.  
  
"Who said I was even going?" McCoy asked him rhetorically. "Do you know how much work I've got to do?"  
  
"No excuses. You're going," Jim said pointing a finger at him.  
  
"This is definitely my cue. Good night, gentlemen," Christine said loudly to get their attention as she edged backward.  
  
"Night, Chapel," McCoy said. “Good work this evening.”  
  
“You too, McCoy,” she smiled.  
  
"Sweet dreams!" Kirk called after her.  
  
She gave them a little wave of her fingers as she walked up the steps to the door.  
  
The door to her building slowly swooshed shut behind her. The two men stood in silence for a moment before Kirk turned to McCoy with a puzzled look.  
  
"Were we just rebuffed?" he asked. McCoy snorted and walked in the direction of the student dorms.  
  
"That's the wrong way," Jim said catching up to him.  
  
McCoy ignored him and kept walking. They eventually came to the main street and had to wait for the walk signal. Maybe if he kept really quiet, Jim would figure out that all he wanted to do was go home, fall into the shower and then fall into bed.  
  
"I like Christine."  
  
McCoy fought the urge to groan.  
  
"She's nice. She's smart. Pretty. Great hands," Jim listed. "You should ask her out."  
  
This was a familiar refrain of Jim's, so McCoy just kept his mouth shut. Seriously, the only way to get the kid to shut up was to ignore him because eventually something shiny would come along and his little inner crow would fly after the new distraction.  
  
The signal changed and McCoy headed across the street. Jim followed.  
  
"She likes you, you know," he nattered on. "I can tell. I don't know what your problem is. I think you two would have a lot of fun debating which disease will kill you faster and whoa... I just had a mental picture of what your pillow talk might be like. Scary. Scary, but kind of hot."  
  
"For God's sake, Jim!" McCoy said a bit too loudly. Jim just smirked at him.  
  
They walked in silence for a few minutes.  
  
"She makes her own food," McCoy muttered eventually.  
  
"I'm sorry?" Jim asked. "She-- what?"  
  
"Makes her own lunch. And dinner," the doctor repeated. "She brings it to shifts in this little plastic thing that keeps it warm or cold. She hardly ever uses the replicator."  
  
"O-kay," Jim said furrowing his brow.  
  
"It's just..." McCoy was unsure how to make his friend understand why this was a big deal. "It's this thing she does. It's weird."  
  
"The fact that she cooks is weird?" Jim repeated. McCoy didn't answer. "Wow. Man, I knew you had issues, I just didn't realize how deep-seated they were."  
  
"Hey!" McCoy said glaring at the younger man. "Do not analyze me!"  
  
"I passed my mid-term, you know," Jim defended.  
  
"Yeah, well, one semester of voodoo does not make you a witch doctor," McCoy groused.  
  
"Fine. I just think you'd enjoy each other's company," Jim said. "That's all."  
  
"We do. As colleagues. We work well together," McCoy said. "Do you know how rare it is to find someone in the medical profession that you can work with where you're not questioning every move they make? She’s an inch away from finally becoming a doctor. I'm not going to mess with that. No matter how 'hot' you think it may be."  
  
"Who're you trying to convince here?" Jim held his hands up in surrender at the glare McCoy shot him. "Okay, okay! Shutting up now."  
  
They arrived at their dorm and McCoy headed up the steps. He glanced up at the flickering porch light and shook his head at the faulty bulb that still hadn’t been replaced.  
  
“You’re seriously not coming out with me?” Jim sounded surprised. “Wow. Okay. I’ll be at that bar on Fifth Street if you feel like coming out later.”  
  
“Sure,” he said as Jim headed off. “Maybe.”  
  
He entered in the code to enter the dorm and made a move to enter when Jim’s voice stopped him.  
  
“Hey, Bones!” Jim called. “I get it, you know. But, just keep one thing in mind.”  
  
McCoy waited.  
  
“She’s pretty. She’s blonde. And she’s great,” Jim said.  
  
“That’s three things, asshole,” McCoy interrupted.  
  
“ _And,_ someone somewhere isn’t going to hesitate to take that girl out for a drink,” he finished with a serious look that was very out of place on his face. Then he shrugged and grinned. “Just saying.”  
  
He sauntered away and left McCoy standing in the doorway. Shadows on the doctor’s face came and went as the light flickered above him.


	3. Chapter 3

  
**Title:** The Feeling of Being in Motion Again  
 **Series:** Going to Georgia  
 **Pairing(s):** McCoy/Chapel UST, pre-Spock/Uhura  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Star Trek. Someone else far cleverer than me does. The titles and excerpts are from _Going to Georgia_ by the Mountain Goats.  
 **Summary:**  
 **A/N:** Thank you so, so much to everyone who has read and reviewed. They truly inspire me to keep going. A massive 'Thank you' goes to **Kerichi** for her fantastic beta skills that helped me knock this chapter into place!

As always, please let me know what you think!

[Chapter One](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/22149.html) [Chapter Two](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/22433.html) [Chapter Two Outtake](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/22617.html)

 

Christine woke up early the next morning, splashed some cold water on her face, and put on her running shorts and top. Her feet took her automatically out of her building and towards the park nearby. She stretched carefully and then started out on a slow jog. Her normal route was through the park and then around the perimeter of the staff quarters to end up back at her building. However, since she was expecting Nyota, she decided to take a shorter route through the park.

She got back to her apartment and hopped into the shower. Then she dressed in her traditional cooking clothes: blue jeans and a worn t-shirt. It was something of a relief to pull on her jeans as opposed to the Starfleet Medical uniform. Her feet thanked her when she slid into her comfortable sandals instead of the usual struggle into her boots. The little five year-old in her head rejoiced at not having to wear socks. She took a moment to pin her some of her hair back, but left the rest loose.

She headed for her kitchen. She'd made sure last night before going to bed that her kitchen was clean and tidy. Now, she just pulled out her cafe tierre, a gift from her uncle, and some of the house blend from her favorite cafe. As the water boiled, Christine double-checked her knives. She made sure they were sharp and clean, a habit learned in her mother's kitchen and reinforced in nursing school.

The water finished its boil and Christine prepared her coffee. She perched on one of the stools at the counter and looked over the recipe Nyota sent over the prior evening. She had butter, onions and the herbs it listed. She did not have a spare plomeek lying around. Once again, she shook her head at the implications that this little recipe held. This little _Vulcan_ recipe. Christine wondered exactly who Nyota was so grateful towards that she felt he deserved homemade soup. She finished her coffee and ate a bowl of cereal.

At 1000 hours precisely, the door chimed. She walked over and checked the small vid-screen. Predictably, it was Nyota Uhura. She wasn't alone. Christine palmed the sensor for entry.

"Hi, Christine," Nyota said. She looked slightly sheepish.

"Hi! I'm Gaila," her friend said with a cheerful wave. Gaila was clearly an Orion, the green skin being something of a give away, and with the kind of red hair Christine would have seriously coveted a few years ago.

"Hi," Christine said. "Come on in."

She stood to the side and let Nyota and Gaila enter. Each girl carried a beige bag with the name of a popular fresh food market on the side.

"I hope you don't mind," Nyota said. "My roommate here kind of followed me."

"Please, if you think I'm missing this, you're crazier than I thought." Gaila looked at Christine with wide eyes that shone with mirth. "I've been to every single one of her cooking experiments and they've all ended in tears. When I heard that this time there was a chance for success, well, I couldn't miss that, could I?"

"Of course you couldn't," Christine said. "I'm happy you could join us. The kitchen's, well, right here. It's kind of a small place."

The apartment was open plan with a small counter that separated the kitchen from the living room where Christine had her desk set up. The kitchen itself had a stove, a small refrigerator, and a standard food synthesizer.

"I love it! It smells so much better than the dorms," Gaila said thunking her bag on the small counter. She wandered over to the one large window next to Christine's desk. "You get great natural light. Oh, and you can see the park!"

Nyota set her bag down a little more carefully. "It's a very nice apartment. You're lucky to have the room to yourself."

"I heard that!" came from over by the window.

Nyota rolled her eyes.

Christine laughed. "I kind of like it myself." She walked over to her refrigerator and opened the door. "Well, the very first rule of cooking is to make sure you've got snacks." She set a bowl filled with sugared ginger and some other dried fruits and nuts on the counter. "Would you like something to drink? I've got juice or water. Or coffee?"

"Ooh, juice please!" Gaila said.

"Water would be lovely," Nyota said. "And, I have to thank you again for helping me out. I hope you didn't think it was too presumptuous to ask. I loved what you brought for the social and then, I overheard you telling Sarah once how you liked to bake and, well..."

"I didn't mind at all. It's a pleasure, believe me," Christine said. "I'm kind of excited to try it out." She poured the drinks.

Gaila took hers and held it aloft. "Here's to Nyota finally making her move."

Christine raised her eyebrows in surprise.

Nyota glared at her roommate but seemed to come to an internal decision. She raised her glass. "Here's to me."

"Here's to move making," Christine said. She clinked her glass to the others and took a drink. "Okay," she said. "Let's see what we've got."

Gaila and Nyota started to unload their bags while Christine got out two chopping boards and cooking pan. Nyota also took her PADD out.

"Now, how far have you gotten in the past?" Christine asked.

"Well, I've managed to chop up the onions," Nyota said. "And then, I've tried to melt the butter..." She stopped and looked at Christine's pan so mournfully, Christine decided on a new strategy.

"Forget everything you've done previously," she said. "We'll just start at the beginning and go on to the end."

Gaila's red curls bounced as she nodded vigorously. "I agree."

"Sounds good to me," Nyota said.

They finished putting all the ingredients out and Christine got her first up close and personal look at a plomeek. "Wow," was all she could say. It looked like a marrow. Or a butternut squash. Only a lot more orange. Christine picked it up. "It feels like a turnip, a very big turnip. How much of this thing is edible?"

"Most of it, according to what I could find," Nyota said. She tilted her head. "I only managed to peel some of it once."

"Then her butter burnt and the alarms went off," Gaila said cheerfully.

Appearing mortified, Nyota shut her eyes.

"That's nothing," Christine said putting the plomeek down on her chopping board. "I once poured cold water over the lid of my mother's glass serving dish which had just come out of the oven. It made the most spectacular shattering sound."

Nyota and Gaila both winced.

Christine pulled her knife set over and her hand hovered over the handles for a moment, then she decided on her chef's knife. She pulled it from the block and looked at the plomeek and then at Nyota."How would like to do this?" she asked. "I mean, I'm happy to see what I can do with this monster, but this is your recipe. And I want to make sure you do as much as you can. What do you think?"

Nyota looked at the plomeek. "You're right," she said. "I do want to do as much of the work as I can, but I also know that I apparently have limits when it comes to cooking." She lifted imploring eyes to Christine. "Could you... Would you be able to say, direct me? And help with the stuff I really don't know how to do?"

"Sure." The corners of Christine's lips lifted up. "Do you want me to start with this guy?"

"Yes, please," Nyota said in relief.

"Excellent! Well, when in doubt," she said as she lifted her knife. "Start hacking away."

"'Hacking'? Is that a culinary term?" Nyota asked.

"Nope. Medical," Christine said. She winked at the other two.

Nyota grinned and Gaila giggled.

Christine sized up the vegetable. It really was shaped like a butternut squash with a bulbous lower section that thinned slightly into a column. She decided to try for more manageable pieces. She sliced the stem off and was pleased to see her knife go through the vegetable easily.

"Are there any seeds?" Christine asked.

"No," Nyota said. "It's sort of stringy and pulpy."

"So, more like a potato than a squash?"

"Definitely like a potato."

"Well, in that case," Christine said reaching to get a second knife. She handed it to Nyota, who took it gingerly, and also slid a chopping board over to her. "If you agree, I'll chop this sucker up and peel him if you want to attack the onions and the carrots. Since it all gets blended anyway, don't worry about precision, just make the pieces pretty small."

"I can do carrots," Nyota said. "And onions. You leave the crinkly brown stuff on them, right?"

Christine looked up with a start, but when she saw the barely suppressed grin on Nyota's face, she pointed her knife in her direction and said, "Nice one. Get peeling, young lady!"

Nyota sketched a little salute and started to peel the onions. Gaila plunked herself down on one of the stools on the opposite side of Nyota and Christine and just watched.

"Would you like to help?" Christine asked her.

"Oh no. I prefer my food prepared the way nature intended it, by someone else's hands," she said. She leaned an elbow on the counter and propped her chin in her hand. In a wistful voice she said, "Preferably a very fit young man with dimples and blond hair."

"She's Orion," Nyota said as if that explained everything. Christine supposed it did.

"What program are you in?" Christine asked Gaila.

"Engineering," she answered with a happy sigh. "I love taking things apart and putting them back together. And then making them go faster!"

"You should see what she did to her datapadd," Nyota said.

"What about you?" Gaila asked. "I've seen you around, but not in any of the command track courses."

"I'm not on the command track. I'm in the Medical School," Christine said still determining just how to peel the plomeek. Smaller sections, she decided.

"Aren't you already a nurse though?" Nyota asked. She'd finished peeling the onions and had started to slice them very carefully.

"I went through the nursing program at the Academy a few years ago," she said. "Then, I decided I wanted more and applied to Starfleet Medical." She shrugged. "So here I am."

"Have gone on any missions?" Nyota asked. Both she and Gaila looked at her expectantly.

"One," Christine said. "It wasn't very long, I'm afraid to say. Just to the Sirius sector to assist a colony, and only for about eight months."

The images of the decimated colony caused by the planet's unstable weather patterns flashed behind her eyes. She spent nearly a month treating people for burns caused by sand and wind. One small child had had grit so deeply embedded in her back; it had taken Christine nearly five hours to remove it all by hand due to the disruptions the weather caused to their electrical equipment.

"Was it intense?" Gaila's question brought her back to her kitchen.

The other woman's honest question made her smile. "Yes. It was very intense."

"Is it everything they say it is?" Nyota asked, the carrot she was chopping forgotten as she looked Christine with young, serious eyes.

Christine paused her own slicing and thought for a moment. "Yes. It is. It's everything they say it is. It's exciting and difficult. It's also a lot of things they don't bother to mention."

"For example?" Nyota asked.

Christine started to neatly cut the skin off the smaller sections she'd made. "You learn all about the mechanics, the numbers of space. How long travel takes, what the protocols are, so forth and so on. The main thing they neglect to tell you is just how incredibly vast it is. All that space up there and how utterly, utterly small we really are in comparison to it."

She looked down at the vegetable in neat pieces under her hands that were shiny with plomeek juices. "They forget to tell you how humbling it is."

"I hadn't thought about that," Nyota said softly. She went back to chopping the carrot methodically. "I've always wanted to be up there."

"I remember it being cold," Gaila said. "On the ship coming from the outpost, it was always so cold in the hallways. Except in the Engineering room. It was warm there."

Aware of the contemplative silence that had descended in the warm kitchen, Christine decided to lighten things a little, "They also forgot to tell us how many things are out there that can kill you."

The other girls grinned at each other. Christine felt like she was missing something. "What? What did I say?"

"Nothing, nothing," Nyota rushed to say, a grin still firmly on her face. "It's just that sounded almost exactly like something a friend would say."

"Would say? He did say!" Gaila said. "You sounded just like Bones."

Christine looked at her in surprise. "Bones? You mean McCoy?"

"You know him? Jim Kirk's friend?" Nyota asked.

"Yes, we work shifts together at the infirmary and have a few classes together," she said. She started to grin. "It did sound like something he'd say, didn't it?"

"The first time I met him he told me about the perils of space travel without proper vaccinations," Nyota said.

"The first time I met him he was tearing my infirmary apart to find a medikit to patch Jim up," Christine said.

Nyota shook her head. "That sounds familiar."

"You call him McCoy?" Gaila asked.

"Well, I usually call him Doctor," Christine said finally slicing off the last of the plomeek peel.

"Ooh, kinky. He'd totally be that type," Gaila said, fluttering her eyelashes. "It's in the eyes."

Christine's jaw dropped. "I mean, I call him Doctor when we're working," she said hoping her face wasn't flushing. "And this thing is done." She grabbed the potatoes and started to wash them under the faucet in the sink to the tune of Gaila's giggling.

"He's better than Kirk, that's for sure," Nyota said with a quick chop of her knife. "Mr. I-Couldn't-Take-a-Hint-Even-if-I-Was-Hit-in-the-Face-With-it."

Christine glanced over her shoulder. "I take it you've had the pleasure of a patented Kirk come-on?"

Nyota's exhale was long-suffering. "Too many."

"Not enough," Gaila said with a different sounding sigh. When Christine and Nyota looked at her, she said, "Hey, that boy has moves. And stamina. And enthusiasm. And-"

"Okay!" Nyota said. "Thank you, Gaila. I think we get it."

Christine couldn't help chuckling as she brought the scrubbed potatoes back over to the counter.

"I've only got one potato peeler, do you know if the skin has to come off or should it stay on?" she asked. Nyota wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and consulted her PADD.

"Leave them on," she said. She held out a hand, "I'll take half."

"Sounds good," Christine pushed some them over. "Again, I think smaller pieces are probably best."

Nyota nodded and they began chopping again.

"So," Christine said, unable to help herself, "a Vulcan recipe?"

Nyota stopped mid slice. "You caught that, hunh?"

"Very few cultures actually use the plomeek," Christine said. "It wasn't too hard to figure out."

"Right. Well, umm," she said.

"Oh, come on, Nyota!" Gaila said. "Splash it!"

"It's 'spill it'," Nyota said. "And we are up to our elbows in this stuff."

Christine tried to keep a straight face."You did promise drama."

"Yes, I did." Nyota released a deep breath. "He's a Vulcan. He's, well, he's my-"

"He's her instructor," Gaila said.

"He's not my instructor," Nyota said firmly. "He was my instructor. I've been his TA for the past semester and he has been generously assisting me with my thesis."

"Okay," Christine said. She finished her potatoes and started in on the garlic.

"He's extremely... I just find him—fascinating," Nyota said. The intense tone she applied to the adjective more or less told Christine everything.

She wouldn't dream of teasing her about it. "When do you plan on giving him the soup?"

"Well, if this goes well, I thought tomorrow," Nyota said. "I have a lunch meeting with him and I brought a thermos to take it with me. I've read that it keeps well."

"Sounds good to me." Christine looked at the mound of chopped vegetables and said, "I think we've done as much damage to these fellows as we can. Let's heat them up."

Nyota looked worried. "This is always the bad part. I don't want to mess this up." She picked at the cubes of potatoes and slid a hand over the onions.

"Why are you doing this again?" Christine asked, cocking her head to the side to study the young woman.

"It's a thank you," Nyota said after thinking for a moment. "He's done so much and I know there are things back home that he misses, even if he won't admit it. I want to do something that he'd appreciate."

"Well, don't worry," Christine said. "I'll help you step by step. The saucepan is already in place on the stove. Now, just turn the heat on to about just a little below high."

Nyota tapped the controls and adjusted the saucepan so it was perfectly centered on the eye.

"Add the butter and let it melt just enough so that the bottom of the pan is coated," was the next instruction. She handed Nyota a measuring spoon and the other woman carefully scooped out the correct amount and dropped it into the pan. It melted quickly.

"Okay, add the onions."

Nyota dropped the onions into the bubbling butter.

Christine reached over to her jar of utensils and pulled out a large wooden spoon.

"You know," Christine said thoughtfully. "A lot of cultures believe that food can be infused with the emotions and wishes of the one who makes it. There is a reason they say 'food is the way to a man's heart.'"

She handed the spoon to Nyota who took it and held it firmly in her hand. She eyed the pan, squared her shoulders, and then diligently stirred the onions until they were brown. Under Christine's direction and help, the other vegetables were added.

"Okay, I'll stir and you get the spices ready," Christine said.

Gaila handed the little packets they had bought earlier to her friend and Nyota measured them out and added them to the pan. Christine handed the spoon back over to her and added some water.

"Okay, stir one last time and then we'll let it simmer and then blend," she said.

After a final vigorous circle of the contents with the spoon, the lid went on.

Nyota let out a shaky laugh. "That wasn't so bad."

"See?" Christine said. The girls crowded around the counter and ate a few handfuls of nuts and fruit. They talked about classes and life at the Academy. Christine discovered she was truly enjoying herself.

"So, Christine," Gaila said at one point. "Any men in your life? Or women?"

"Ah, neither, actually," she said.

"Why not?" the Orion asked.

"Gaila," Nyota warned.

"No, it's okay," Christine said. "I'm so busy with school and shifts, I just haven't really bothered. Or had time."

Nyota nodded her head in understanding and Gaila rolled her eyes.

"There is always time for sex," she said. "What about McCoy?"

Christine's eyes widened. "Excuse me? There's nothing. I mean... No! It's... Why?"

Gaila gave her a look. "Hello? Orion?" She tapped her nose. "There's a definite spike whenever I mentioned him."

Christine narrowed her eyes. "Pheromones don't work that way."

"She's a nurse, Gaila," Nyota said. "You're not going to get her that way."

"Oh, right," Gaila said as her face fell a little. She quickly brightened. "Are you sure there's nothing there? I mean, he's a handsome male. That voice of his is just made for sex."

Christine felt her face flush and Nyota just shook her head.

"Especially when he does that thing, you know where he sort of drags the vowel out. It's that thing his accent does. What's that called again?" Gaila asked.

"Drawl," Christine and Nyota answered at the same time. They caught the other's eye and for the first time in a while, Christine found herself giggling uncontrollably.

"We're colleagues. Nothing else," Christine said when she calmed down. She paused for a moment remembering the chills his voice in her ear had caused during the shift last night. "Although, I do see your point about his voice."

"Ha! Knew it!" Gaila said. "But, if you're _sure_?"

"I'm sure," she said. "And I think we need to check the soup. Nyota, you're up. Have at it."

Nyota lifted the lid and the smell of gently spiced vegetables filled the room. She tested the potatoes and they were tender enough for everything to be poured into Christine's food processor.

After a few false starts and a small amount of spillage, the soup was blended to a nice smooth consistency.

"Let's try a bowl," Christine said. She ladled out a small amount and they all had a taste.

"Well," Gaila said. "It's okay. Kind of bland."

"I think that's sort of the point," Christine said. "It's not bad, though. What do you think, Nyota?"

"It needs something," she answered. "Can I-?" She gestured to Christine's spice rack.

"Of course."

After looking at the labels, Nyota grabbed a small bottle of cinnamon. Christine began to smile. Perfect choice. Nyota added just a small amount and it definitely picked up the flavor.

"Good idea," Christine said.

"My mother always added a little to soups to give it something extra," Nyota admitted. Then a stricken look came over her face. "Oh! Oh, how am I going to actually serve this to him? I have to re-heat it! How do I do that?"

"Easily," Christine said calmly. "He's got a stove, right?" Nyota nodded. "Then just pour it into a saucepan and put it on low, don't let it boil, just let it simmer and stir from time to time. Take this cinnamon and add it halfway through."

Nyota nodded again. "Of course. I can do that. I've done that before. I don't know why I'm overreacting."

Christine helped her pour the rest of the soup into the container Nyota had brought and they sealed it tightly.

"I can't thank you enough," Nyota said. "Really."

"Oh, no. Thank you!" Christine said warmly. "I haven't had this much fun in a while."

"What are you doing the rest of the day?" Gaila asked.

"Studying," Christine said. "I've got a huge amount of reading to do."

"You sound like her," Gaila said pointing to Nyota. "What about tonight?"

"I have no idea."

"We should go dancing! Oh, you should come!" Gaila said. "Please? We found the best place. They serve spicy food and these awesome fruity drinks and the music is amazing."

"Oh, I don't know." Christine hesitated. "I haven't seen the inside of a club in a while."

"It's not really a club. It's this old Cuban place," Nyota said. "The food is very good. You really should come. My treat."

"You can bring some clothes to change into and come back to the dorm with us and study," Gaila said. "Then we can all go out!"

It occurred to Christine that she hadn't actually been dancing or gone out with people, outside of a quick drink after a shift, in far too long. She'd been spending so much time studying and working, she'd forgotten that she actually enjoyed letting her hair down. "It sounds great," she said with smile. "I'd love to."

"Yes!" Gaila said throwing her arms around Christine in a big hug. The girl's exuberance made Christine laugh out loud and hug her back.

"Gaila, what have we discussed about personal space?" Nyota asked trying not to laugh.

"That other people have it?" she asked still hugging Christine.

"Yep."

With a big grin, Gaila let Christine go. Then she asked, "Now, what do you have in your closet?"

Christine quickly grabbed a pair of fitted black pants and a black tank top with silver patterns etched across the front. At Gaila's urging, she slipped her high-heeled black sandals that she'd only worn once in her bag and headed out. They dropped the soup off at their dorm room and she and Nyota studied quietly for a few hours while Gaila tinkered with someone's broken PADD.

When early evening came around, she spent a good hour laughing and painting toenails and getting ready.

Then they hit the restaurant, which did have the best spicy food and gorgeous sangrias. The band started up and Christine hit the dance floor with Gaila and Nyota next to her. She danced mainly on her own, but did accept one dance with a young man named Hikaru who was studying to be a pilot. He was a perfect gentleman and she had a blast.

It was close to 0200 hours when she finally made her way home. She kicked off her sandals and left her clothes lying in a heap on her bathroom floor and fell into bed with the fast rhythm of the salsa band still thrumming through her.

By the time Monday rolled around, she'd mostly recovered and had scheduled to meet both Gaila and Nyota for lunch later in the week. She walked through the campus on her way to the library when she thought she saw Nyota. She stopped and watched as Nyota and a striking man walked along the sidewalk the led up to the Communications lab. The man, unmistakably Vulcan, walked with his hands clasped behind his back and his head tilted towards her friend, completely focused on what she was saying. Christine watched as he politely allowed Nyota to enter the building before him and then followed her inside.

_I guess the soup worked_ , Christine thought. She smiled to herself and hurried into the library.

*****

"I expect a full summation of the potential diagnoses and potential risks in my box by next Wednesday. Dismissed."

McCoy tapped the due date into his PADD and he made his way out of his class with the rest of the cadets. He was having one of those days when everyone he saw looked impossibly young and, not for the first time, wondered what the sam-hell he was doing there. He winced as the glare of the sun hit his eyes.

_You signed up for it, old man,_ he thought. _Now suck it up and keep going._

He noticed Jim was just a few feet ahead of him, eyes glued to his PADD for once. McCoy walked up to him. "Have we fallen into a parallel universe?" he asked. "Are you actually studying?"

"Bones, my friend," Jim said, not looking up from his reading material. "It is entirely possible that I have discovered the joys of proving people wrong."

"Oh, God," McCoy said, making a face once he saw what Jim was reading. "It's Tactical Analysis, right? You're out for blood, aren't you?"

"They should have known better to pick me for devil's advocate," he said. "It will be the debate to end all debates. The maneuver should be allowed and I can tell them all why."

"Well, it's nice to see you enjoying yourself," McCoy said sarcastically.

"Hey, it's probably just a phase," Jim said. "I just want to see the look on MacPherson's face when I counter each of his arguments. And, he-llo, is it Christmas already? Because, there are a nice set of presents under that tree."

McCoy followed his line of sight and saw seated around a small picnic table Uhura, Gaila, and--

"Is that Chapel?" he asked.

"It is indeed," Jim said as he headed off in their direction. McCoy rolled his eyes and followed.

The girls were talking happily. Uhura was the first to spot the men and stopped abruptly to frown at Jim. McCoy hid his grin at her reaction.

"Well, good afternoon, ladies," Jim said. "Gaila, Nurse Christine, Uhura." He drew out Uhura's name and got a withering glare for his trouble.

"Gentlemen," Christine said.

"Boys," Gaila said.

"I didn't see any of you this weekend." Jim's expression resembled that of a three year old missing his lollipop. "I've been inconsolable."

"Really?" Uhura asked flatly. "How terrible for you."

"It was horrible," Jim said. He turned to Gaila and gave her a grin. "I was in desperate need of comfort."

"Oh, were you?" she asked with wide eyes. "I was busy. With the girls."

"Ooh, doing what, exactly?" Jim asked. "Please say it was something depraved."

Uhura 's glare intensified, which McCoy hadn't been sure was actually possible.

"Oh, nothing much, " Gaila said examining her fingernails. "We just spent most of the weekend experimenting with vegetables."

McCoy suddenly forgot how to breathe and audibly choked on air. Chapel raised an eyebrow in concern, but he just waved a hand dismissively.

Jim laughed and but then took in the looks the women were giving him and his laugh faltered into a cough.

"You're serious?" he said.

Uhura and Chapel glanced at each other. With a shrug Uhura said, "She's not wrong."

"A very good time was had by all," Chapel added.

Jim's mouth opened and closed and his eyes glazed over. He seemed utterly incapable of speech.

"Congratulations, ladies," McCoy said. "You've actually broken him."

"Oh, I'm sure I can put the pieces back together," Gaila said. She stood up and trailed a slender green finger down the slope of Jim's nose. Jim began to come out of it and the corner of his mouth lifted. Gaila gently tapped him on the nose and dropped her hand. "But, I've got class first. Coming, roomie?"

"So not replying to that," Uhura said dryly as she grabbed her stuff. She said good-bye to Christine who replied with a smile and a wave.

"I'll walk you," Jim said quickly. "You'll see to Nurse Christine, right Bones?"

He clapped McCoy on the back and hurried after Gaila and Uhura. McCoy grimaced and looked at Christine, who looked like she was about to burst from laughing.

"Vegetables?" he asked.

She threw her head back and laughed.

"Yep," she said when she finally caught her breath. "It was a lot of fun."

"Right," he said. "I'm missing something here."

"You really are," she said. She stood up. "Let's go McCoy, 'see' me to class."

"Yes, ma'am," he teased, smirking when she shot him a glare.

She gathered up her bag and looked after the departing trio. "Is Kirk aware he's fighting a lost cause?" she asked.

McCoy saw Uhura walking stiffly while an oblivious Kirk chatted away. "I think that's part of the challenge," he said dryly. "Why? How much of a lost cause is it?"

"Irretrievably lost," she said. "I've seen the competition."

"Oh, really?" McCoy said. "Steep, is it?"

"Oh yeah," she said. Her eyes narrowed a little. "He pretty much hits every point of the tall, dark and handsome trifecta with a huge helping of mystery and exoticism."

McCoy stole a glance at her and involuntarily frowned at the pensive look on her face. But she came out of it with a little wave of her hand and a flippant, "Oh well, next life."

"Hunh," was his response.

They strolled towards the Science building.

"I didn't realize you knew those two," he said.

"I didn't really," she said. "I knew Uhura through the Chorale and then met Gaila this weekend."

"She's the one you were helping with a 'project'?" he asked.

"Mmm hmm," she said. "I had a really good time."

"Well, good for you," he said gruffly. Christine glanced at him.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, just feeling my age, I guess," he said.

"Oh, yes," she said her eyes sparkling. "Because clearly, you're ready for the old folk's home."

"Watch it, woman," he said. He squinted up at the sun. "It's just… They're all kids at the end of the day. Lives ahead of them. I just wonder what the hell I'm doing here."

"You've got your life ahead of you, too, Leonard." The sound of his name coming from her lips made him start. "And, I think you know this. Otherwise, why would you be here?"

They walked along for a moment before he replied, "Do you enjoy being the voice of reason?"

"It lends a certain amount of satisfaction to my life, yes," she said.

He had a retort ready but a loud "Heads up!" came from behind them.

They turned at the same time and a cadet rushed past Chapel. She was knocked heavily into McCoy. He instinctively caught her as she fell into him, his hands landed on her hips and her back pressed flush against him.

"Watch it, you moron!" he yelled. He looked down at Christine and for the second time that day forgot how to breathe. She rested against his chest and she tilted her head to look up at him. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was parted in surprise. Her scent filled the air around him and he felt his pulse speed up. He swallowed hard. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said breathlessly. Her eyes darted down to his hands on her hips and it was her turn to swallow. "Who says chivalry is dead?"

He steadied her and once he was sure her balance was back, he removed his hands immediately. "Anything for a lady."

"Thank you kindly," she said.

He froze. The fall had loosened her hair and he had to clench his hand into a fist to stop himself from brushing the strands back from her face. She met his eyes and must have seen something because she seemed to freeze a little too.

Finally, she smiled a little unsteadily and said, "Come on, McCoy. Escort me to class. I want to hear you rip the instructor's theories to shreds again."

"Oh, my pleasure, milady," he threw a little extra drawl in for the heck of it and was pleased to see a blush bloom on her cheeks.

It put a spring in his step as they walked on.

[Outtake: McCoy's Hands aka The Danger of Practicing Field Medicine](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/20873.html)  
*****

Because ya'll are awesome and there is an actual recipe for it – I give you Plomeek Soup! If anyone tries it out, let me know how it goes!

I found this on RecipeLand and also at Recipezaar. It was originally published in a Star Trek cookbook back in the 1970s. I don't own it.

**Plomeek Soup (Vulcan Orange Vegetable Soup)**

Yields:4 servings

Recipe Cooking Time:

Preparation: 15 minutes

Cooking: 20 minutes

Ready In: 35 minutes

**Ingredients**

2 tablespoons butter or margarine

2 medium onions, up to 3, peeled and sliced

1 poundcarrots

½ pound turnip

10 ounces potatoes

5 tablespoons tomato paste

3 cups water

2 each garlic cloves

2 ½ teaspoons salt

¾ teaspoon basil (dried)

¼ teaspoon nutmeg

1 cup water (to rinse pan and blender then be added to soup)

sour cream for garnish

parsley leaves, finely chopped, for garnish

**Directions:**

In the pot, melt the butter and when it is foamy, add the onion and fry until golden.

Add everything else to the pot except the last cup of water and the sour cream and parsley garnishes.

Simmer, covered, for about 15 to 20 minutes, or until the potatoes and carrots are tender.

Run it all through the blender, about 1 to 1 1/2 cups at a time.

When it is all pureed, rinse the cooking pot with the cup of water and add that to the 'empty' blender.

Run the blender for a few seconds and then slosh the water about to get as much of the vegetable puree as possible off the sides of the blender.

Add this liquid to the soup.

Pour the soup back into the cleaned out pot and reheat it before serving (use very gentle heat).

Ladle into bowls.

Garnish with sour cream and parsley as described above.

Plommek soup is tradtionally served with a spoonful of sour cream on top; this is carefully swirled out with a spoon to make a spiral shape, representative of the galaxy.

The outline of the galaxy is then emphasized with very finely chopped parsley.

For less festive occaisions, it may be served with a small spoonful of butter (or maragarine) in the centre.


	4. The Feeling of Being in Motion Again

  
**Title:** The Feeling of Being in Motion Again  
 **Series:** Going to Georgia  
 **Pairing(s):** McCoy/Chapel UST  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own _Star Trek_. Someone else far cleverer than me does. The titles and excerpts are from _Going to Georgia_ by the Mountain Goats.

**A/N:** A huge thank you to **Kerichi** for beta-ing this chapter. A massive thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I hope you like this chapter. It is actually the last chapter before an epilogue. I would love to know what you think! I'm having an utter ball with these characters, so I hope you enjoy them as much as I do!  
  
[Chapter One](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/22149.html) [Chapter Two](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/22433.html) [Chapter Two Outtake](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/22617.html) [Chapter Three](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/23375.html) [McCoy's Hands aka The Danger of Practicing Field Medicine](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/20873.html) This is the 'outtake' that started it all! It comes in between Chapter Three and Four.  
  


Christine fought the urge to smooth the front of her uniform down. She uncrossed and re-crossed her ankles. The receptionist sitting at the desk just to the left of her smiled reassuringly. Christine tried to smile back, but was afraid it looked a bit strained.

She took a deep breath to calm and center herself and turned her gaze towards the window on the opposite side of the room. The afternoon sun was shining brightly. Christine could just see the faintest gleam of the bay in the distance.

She tried to focus on what exactly it was she was feeling, sitting in this particular office. She sifted through excited, anxious and settled on bewildered. She couldn't figure out why she had been asked to report to Captain Pike's office.

The semester had carried on in its own traditional way. Personally, she was doing fine. She'd gone out a few more times with Nyota and Gaila, thoroughly enjoying herself each time. She could actually call the other girls her closest friends by this point.

Academically, things couldn't be better. She was doing extremely well in all of her courses and was now looking into where she might intern for the summer. The field hospital in Boston had an exceptional program devoted to the study of endocrinology and she had already filled in the application. In the fall, she'd start her first official semester as a proper resident. She was both excited and intimidated.

The first time she'd expressed her apprehension to McCoy, he'd just looked at her and then told her that she was already a better doctor than half the staff at his old hospital and she could only get better. Her cheeks had burned with a flush of pleasure for an embarrassing amount of time afterwards.

Even now, she felt a glow of warmth. It was a welcome distraction from trying to maintain a composed expression when all she really wanted to do was ask questions.

Something chimed on the receptionist's desk. She stood up. "Lieutenant Chapel? The captain will see you now."

Christine breathed a tiny sigh of relief and walked through the door held open for her. The captain and another man waited inside the office. Captain Pike walked around his desk to greet her.

"Lieutenant Chapel. It's good to see you again," he said holding out his hand to shake hers.

She smiled in greeting. "Captain Pike. Good to see you, too, sir."

"I believe you know Doctor Puri." He indicated the other man in the room.

Dr. Puri stepped forward, a friendly smile on his round face, to shake her hand. "Lieutenant," he said. "Always good to see a former colleague."

Christine remembered the gentleman from her mission to the colony seven years ago. He had been one of the senior medical staff on board and she had genuinely liked working for him. Patient and professional, with an easygoing sense of humor, he'd managed to make the entire staff feel at ease even in the direst situations.

"Thank you, doctor. I had heard you were stateside again," she said, pleased to see him.

"Hopefully not for long," Dr. Puri said cheerfully.

"Please, take a seat, lieutenant," Captain Pike said. He led her away from his desk and towards a set of comfortable chairs in the corner of the office. Christine sat down on one and the doctor and the captain seated themselves in the others. They chatted for a few minutes about Dr. Puri's last trip in the outer rim of the Alpha Quadrant. Christine hoped her facial expressions were ones of interest and not violent curiosity.

Apparently, telepathy could be added to the captain's list of accomplishments, because he soon asked her, "You must be wondering why I've called you in."

"The thought crossed my mind, sir," she said.

"Well, it's very simple," he said. "Assignments went out this past week for the new armada. I've been given the USS Enterprise."

"Congratulations, sir," Christine said. "She's beautiful."

"She is indeed," Pike said with quiet pride. "I'm in the midst of selecting my personnel. Dr. Puri here has agreed to be my Chief Medical Officer."

Christine turned her gaze to Puri and said with a smile, "Congratulations, doctor."

The doctor beamed.

"He's been helping me to create a good medical staff. We've filled most of the positions, except for a few, including Head Nurse." Pike's gaze met Christine's in a significant look. "We'd like you to consider the position."

Christine felt her stomach lunge and her mind sputtered a little. "Sir... I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Yet," he said raising a finger. "I don't have to tell you that this is a significant position for you. Your abilities speak for themselves. I've had nothing but glowing reports from your former employers, including Dr. Puri here. The head nurse at your former hospital in Louisiana was especially complimentary about your skills in the trauma ward."

"But," she said looking down at her hands briefly and then back up to meet the captain's gaze. "I wasn't looking for a position. I know that as an officer, I would go wherever I was commanded--"

"But you are deeply invested in your current courses," he finished for her. "I do understand, lieutenant. I'll confess to being extremely selfish in this particular instance. I'd like a crew made up of the best. You're one of the best nurses Starfleet has seen graduate."

"Thank you, sir," Christine said quietly her mind beginning to whir through possibilities.

"Christine," Dr. Puri said. "I distinctly remember two things about you: your devotion to your patients and your drive to overcome challenges." He smiled and spread his hands out. "While becoming a doctor is a great challenge, serving on a five year mission on a starship is one of the greatest."

She nodded thinking over the doctor's words.

"However, this is your choice, lieutenant," Pike said. "I would understand if you choose to continue your studies, but I would ask that you at least consider it. Naturally, we hope you say 'yes.'"

He finished with a warm smile that Christine couldn't help but return.

"Thank you, sir," she said again. "Both of you. I'm truly honored to be given the chance to serve with you both. And, please don't think that I'm not grateful. It's just a bit of a shock."

"It shouldn't be," Pike said. "Intelligent, resourceful nurses, such as yourself, will always be in high demand. You've proven that you can handle yourself in extreme situations, whether you're battling the elements on a distant planet or disorderly cadets in your infirmary."

Christine chuckled a little. "When do you need my answer?"

"Monday of next week," Captain Pike said. "If you have any questions or concerns, either of us would be happy to talk to you further."

"Thank you, again," she said. "I'll have my answer ready, sir."

"Good," he said. He stood up and shook Christine's hand again. "Thank you for coming in."

Dr. Puri also gave her a warm good-bye and before she knew it, Christine was outside standing on the sidewalk in front of the command offices. She absently checked the time. 1530. The meeting had taken precisely thirty minutes. Thirty minutes ago, she had known exactly what she was doing. Thirty minutes ago, she had years of course work ahead of her with the ultimate reward of being a doctor at the end of it.

Thirty minutes ago, she hadn't even considered an assignment on a starship.

Now... Now, it was really, really tempting.

When she graduated with her nursing degree, she had fully expected to spend the majority of her years in space. It was only due to her mother's failing health that she decided to take a job close to home. She'd worked hard at the field hospital, been promoted quickly and made the decision to become a doctor... Well, remembering the circumstances under which she'd made her decision caused her to cringe a little internally.

Now, to be given the choice of going back up there; to explore and to see new worlds. To do what she'd been initially trained to do.

She walked slowly towards the green common area and sat on an empty bench. The leaves in the elm tree above rustled above her head and she leaned back to look at the sky.

And considered her choices.

*****

McCoy was worried.

This was actually not a common condition for him, no matter what Jim Kirk might say. Mostly he was just concerned. Concerned that the shuttle he was flying on was about to break apart. Concerned that Jim would get hit in the head one too many times, or concerned that the latest crop of med students had absolutely no practical experience and might actually kill someone one with their incompetence.

However, when he discovered Chapel just standing in front of the shelves of the store room at the infirmary with a blank expression on her face, his usual concern fell with a clang into the worry column.

McCoy's graveyard shift in the infirmary had started out in its traditional way. He arrived at 00:00 hours, just as Chapel did, and they listened to the previous shift's updates and then checked the duty roster. It was a busy evening. Several of the societies were throwing parties and the sheer amount of contraception being asked for was startling.

They had finally sent away the latest walking hormone with enough supplies to satisfy an army and Chapel had gone to start her basic inventory. He'd come in to ask her opinion on a new treatment he'd read about and found her looking slightly lost.

And staring at topical solutions.

No one stared at topical solutions unless something was wrong. Which led to the conclusion that something was wrong in Christine's life. Therefore, McCoy was worried. Because, things just shouldn't go wrong in her life. Period.

He wondered if he could ask her about it. Did he even have the right to ask?

He'd actually done pretty well maintaining a healthy friendship with her. He respected the heck out of her, both personally and professionally. Sure there had been a few times he'd considered asking her out. And there had been the one incident during a renewal class where he'd accidently massaged her foot instead of focusing on bandaging it.

_Oh, who are you kidding?_ he thought. _That was no accident._

She'd gotten her own back. Fractured pelvis, his ass. He'd spent the entire time trying to remember the most gruesome autopsy he'd ever done so he didn't make an utter fool of himself, while her steady and nimble fingers danced over his lower body. He deserved a goddamn medal for that.

He quickly came back to the present and the fact that she looked lost in the frickin' storeroom.

McCoy cleared his throat. Christine jumped and turned to face him, her hand on her chest.

"Sweet Jesus, McCoy!" she said. "Give a girl some warning next time."

"I did," he said. "Been standing here for a few minutes now."

"Oh." She looked down at the datapadd in her hands as if she couldn't remember how it got there.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said with a tone that tried to approach casual and failed. "Why?"

"Because, you've been staring at the miconazole nitrate solution for a while now and unless you've got some fungal infection you're embarrassed about, something's up," he said. Her eyes widened and he was suddenly struck with the thought that he may have completely overstepped his bounds. But, he'd asked and he wasn't going to take it back, so he just met her gaze and stood in a silent battle of wills.

She looked away first and then sighed. She leaned against the shelves behind her and met his eyes again. The bright light illuminated her delicate cheekbones and he stamped down the urge to smooth his thumb over them.

"I had a meeting today," she said. "With Captain Pike."

McCoy crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorjamb. "Okay."

"I've been offered a position on the USS Enterprise," she said. "Head Nurse."

"Wow," he said genuinely stunned. "That's... That's something. Christine, that's great."

She looked at him and asked, "Is it? I'd have to give up med school."

"True. You'd also be getting a hell of a promotion."

"I wasn't even looking for it," she said shaking her head. "I still can't get my head around it." She worried her bottom lip. "Do you know why I decided to go back to school?"

"I assumed it was because you wanted to become a doctor," he said.

She smiled ruefully and looked down. "Yeah."

It appeared that Christine was slowly moving from his Worry column to the more serious Troubled column. "Would you like to talk about it?" he asked hesitantly.

Christine gave him a grateful look and crossed her arms over her chest. "It seems so ridiculous now."

"I have a hard time believing you could ever do anything ridiculous," he said honestly.

Christine met his eyes. "A few years ago, I was engaged to be married."

McCoy felt something inside of him clench and lurch. Outwardly, he just nodded.

"I met him at the field hospital where I was stationed. He was - brilliant. 'Medical archaeology's brightest mind in the field'," she recited. "One thing led to another and before I knew it... I was engaged."

"'Medical archaeology's brightest mind'?" McCoy repeated, a name flashed behind his eyes.

Christine looked regretful. "Yes, Dr. Roger Korby. Did you know him?"

"No, but I read his translations. Met him briefly at a conference," he said. He cocked his head to the side. "He made an impression."

"Really?" she asked raising an eyebrow. "I won't ask what type."

McCoy was relieved. He'd found the man to be an egotistical bore of the worst sort.

"So, anyway. There I was, working shift after shift, in the trauma department," she said. "Which I liked. Heck, which I loved. Roger, on the other hand, was busy writing and teaching. And then, the approval came through for his big expedition."

She stopped, her cheeks filled with pink and her eyes widened. She abruptly turned around to face the shelves and started tapping the datapadd. "No, this is... God, I'm sorry McCoy. You don't want to hear this. I'll figure it out."

"Hey, Chapel," he said walking over to her. He put a hand out, hesitated for a second and then laid it on her shoulder. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't mean it. When have I ever stood around listening to something when I didn't want to?"

She let out a brief laugh and said, "Never." She looked over her shoulder at him and he just smirked at her. Chapel turned around and he dropped his hand. She looked around the storeroom restlessly and then said, "It was going to be an expedition of an indefinite length. He asked me to wait for him. Just - wait for him."

She leaned back again and rested her head on a shelf. He copied her position next to her. They both stared at the opening to the store room.

"It occurred to me that all I had been doing was waiting," she said. "Waiting for a promotion, waiting for a new placement, waiting to get married. The only reason I wasn't on any kind of a Starfleet mission was because my mother had been ill and my father asked me to come home. So, there had been an awful year of waiting to see if she was going to recover. And now, the man I loved was asking me to just keep waiting." She let out a breath. "I told him no. I told him that I was a fully qualified Starfleet officer and he'd need medical crew, so why not take me with him?" Christine pursed her lips.

McCoy said, "I take it he wasn't keen on the idea."

"He said that he appreciated the offer, I didn't have enough experience," she said. "I was much better suited for the field hospital. Because, after all, I was only a nurse, not a doctor or a specialist."

The thing about her statement that made McCoy see red wasn't the words that this man dared to say to her, it was the defeated tone in Christine's voice.

"What did you do?" he asked.

"Ah, yes, well," she said with a sardonic quirk of her lips. "Is this the point in the narrative where I tell you that in a fit of empowerment, I left his sorry ass?"

"If it would make you feel better."

"I wish," she said. "When it came down to it, it was a fairly mutual decision. He phrased it so that it appeared that he was doing the responsible thing, saving me from years of heartache and that I was now free to follow my own path. So I am and I did. I applied to Starfleet Medical two days after I returned the ring."

"Good for you," he said. "Do you regret it?"

"No! No, of course not," she said with a vehement shake of her head that loosened a few blonde strands. "I could never regret coming here. I only... I think I regret the reason I came here."

He understood, remembering the reason he came here; running as fast from Georgia as he could, the metaphorical ink not quite dry on the divorce papers.

"There are worse reasons to want to start over, Chapel," he said. "At least you care about the profession."

"I was doing it to prove a point though," she said. "That's hardly honorable."

"Well, that's a load of bullshit," he said loudly startling her into looking over at him. "You're becoming a doctor because you want to. Because, you'll be a good one. Because, you care about the practice. Maybe proving a point got you here; but, it's not what's making you stay."

He met her wide eyes and watched a sweet smile slowly light up her face.

"My goodness, Doctor McCoy. Who says you don't have a positive bedside manner?"

"Everyone," he said emphatically. They shared a small chuckle and she sighed.

"They expect my answer on Monday," she said. "I'm not sure if the fact that I've got a few days to think it over is a good or bad thing."

"So, stop thinking about it," he said. "Go with your instincts. They've gotten you this far."

"You think?"

McCoy started to answer but a loud shout suddenly came from the waiting room.

"Help! Is anyone here?"

Both of their heads whipped to look at the door and McCoy walked quickly out of the store room into the waiting room, Chapel right behind him.

A cadet stood in the middle of the room, his arm was around the waist of another cadet who was leaning against his friend heavily. The injured cadet's left leg had the hilt of some kind of weapon buried in the calf.

"Oh, God," the cadet said. "You've got to help. It was an accident."

"My leg!" the injured one groaned out. "I can't believe you stabbed me!"

"Stop saying that!" the first cadet said.

"Room Two," Chapel said before she disappeared into the exam room.

"What happened?" McCoy asked, he put the wounded cadet's arm over his shoulders and began to guide them towards the room Chapel indicated.

"We were in the square," the young man said as he stumbled. He gulped. "We were trying out some of the moves we learned in hand to hand combat."

"I told you we should have kept the guards on," the other one gritted out. "Bastard got me right in the leg."

"Hey! You said 'go for it!'"

"No! I said 'don't go for it!'"

"Enough!" McCoy snapped. "Chapel."

She went to his side and they carefully got the young man on the biobed. She handed McCoy a tricorder and he went straight to the wound on the leg and she made sure the monitor was displaying the boy's vitals. "Elevated heart rate, BP eighty over fifty," she said. She moved so she could look the boy in the eye and asked firmly, "What's your name, Cadet?"

"Richards, Joseph R.," he said in between grimaces of pain, his face was pale and a sheen of sweat was present on his forehead. She nodded and typed his name into the system.

"And you?" she asked his friend who was hugging his arms around his waist and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Marks, Thomas F."

"It's punctured his gastrocnemious and is partially embedded in his soleous muscle," McCoy said reading the tricorder results.

"I didn't pull it out," Marks said. "That was right, right? In case it'd make him bleed out or something?"

McCoy just managed to not roll his eyes and said, "Yeah, which was the only bit of good thinking you've done tonight." He heard Chapel clear her throat but ignored her hint to keep the sarcastic comments to himself. "Call for hospital transport."

"Yes, doctor," she said as she went to the comm unit on the wall by the counter.

McCoy felt a scowl form on his face as the tricorder readings altered. Despite his good humor, the patient was going into shock. When Christine concluded the call, he showed her the screen and said, "We'll have to take it out ourselves."

She shot him a look and he knew what she was thinking. Technically, any and all invasive procedures had to be performed at the hospital. The infirmary's remit was only to stabilize and treat minor surface injuries. This would the third time he'd ignored the proscribed course of action. She didn't say a word to contradict him though. McCoy looked at the wound again and asked the cadet hovering in the corner, "What the heck is it anyway?"

"A standard Class C dagger, sir," he said. "It's designed for hand to hand combat. Very light, good for sharp thrusts."

"Yeah, sharp thrusts into _my leg_!" Cadet Richards said as he rose a little from the bed, his voice shrill and the skin around his eyes were now tinged with grey.

"Easy, now," Chapel said putting a hand on the injured boy's shoulder and gently pushing him back. "You need to stay still and calm. We'll get you fixed up."

"Yes, ma'am," he said laying his head back and closing his eyes.

"Chapel, I'm going to need the usual," McCoy said meeting her eyes and giving her one more chance to back out and follow the proper procedure.

"I'll get everything together, doctor." She maintained eye contact and he knew that she approved. She left the room to gather the equipment.

McCoy grabbed a pair of scissors and carefully cut the cadet's pants leg to get to the wound. It was still bleeding sluggishly and would do even more once the dagger was out. He took another reading with the tricorder to confirm his initial findings.

"Chapel!" he called. "I'll need the--"

"Autosuture," she said as she came back in with a tray of equipment. He spared her a quick look while he grabbed the hypospray.

"Thank you," he said and then he quickly injected the area right below the cadet's knee. "That should help the pain, Cadet. It should also kill off the infection you got on the way over."

"Don't you mean 'any' infection?" he asked his eyes struggling to open. "It didn't get dirty or anything."

"You think you need to play in the mud to get an infection?" McCoy asked. He shook his head. "Boy, you've probably got all kinds of things swimming around this little nick of yours which you got just by existing."

"What?!" the cadet said breaking through the haze of blood loss.

"Easy, easy," Chapel said to the cadet again before she gave McCoy an amused look. He did roll his eyes this time.

"Oh, man," the cadet in the corner said. "Our instructor is going to kill us."

"Us?! Who stabbed who, here?" Richards said trying to glare at him.

"We both decided to practice!" Marks shot back. "'It'll get us ahead in class!' you said."

"Cadets," Chapel said sharply. "Blame can be placed later. Let's get the weapon out of Mr. Richards' leg first. Cadet Marks, would you mind sitting in the waiting room?"

It really wasn't a question and McCoy didn't bother to hide his smirk. The cadet left the room hastily.

The next ten minutes were filled with requests for instruments that were filled before he'd finish speaking. The blade was extracted in a smooth pull and Chapel quickly disinfected the area before McCoy got to work with the autosuture, making sure the muscles would heal in the correct place. Then, it only took five passes of the dermal regenerator to patch up the wound. McCoy used the tricorder again to make sure the sutures were taking.

"Well, that's that," McCoy said.

"Heart rate is normal, BP stabilizing," Chapel said. She smiled at the cadet who was breathing steadily and staring up at the ceiling. "Your color's coming back. How do you feel?"

"Kind of stupid," he said looking at her with a sheepish expression.

"Good. Means you're getting better," McCoy said. "Well, you certainly won't be attending anymore sparring sessions. And you'll need to keep this leg still for at least a day or two."

"But, I've got a final in Weapons Training tomorrow!"

"You should have remembered that before you decided to play with pointy metal things," McCoy said. "The transport will take you to the hospital for observation, so for right now, just stay here, be quiet and don't move that leg."

Chapel finished putting the instruments back on the tray and with a glance at McCoy left the room to put them away. He followed her out and into the lab. She put the tray down and just looked at him with slightly upturned lips as if she was amused at his belligerence.

"They're going to yell at me again," McCoy said.

"Oh, yes," she said. "They are definitely going to yell at you again."

He rolled his neck to let out some of the tension in it. "Ah, hell."

"I'll back you up, you know," she said.

"You'll do no such thing," he said pointing a finger at her. She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. "It was my call; I'll take whatever they want to throw at me. Probably another round with the Discipline Committee and an extra lecture on proper responses to protocol."

"It doesn’t matter that it was your call," she said. "They'll only say that I should have enforced the rules on you and made you wait until the transport got here. I'll receive some share of the blame no matter how we phrase it. I'd rather get it for following my own instincts and not just yours."

For the second time that evening, McCoy found himself staring into Christine's eyes and waiting to see who would give.

Neither gave and it seemed they would have glared at each other all night until the transport team arrived and called from the waiting room, "Doctor McCoy? Someone call for a lift?"

Chapel walked past McCoy and went to take the transport crew in to get Richards ready to be moved. McCoy looked at the tray of used instruments on the counter said under his breath, "Damn it, woman."

Cadet Richards was loaded into the vehicle that would take him to the hospital. Cadet Marks clambered up behind him.

"Nice extraction, Doc," the EMT said. "Bet the hospital will appreciate one less thing to do tonight."

"Yeah, we'll see," McCoy said. Chapel said nothing. They stood back and watched the ambulance head off.

Chapel turned to go inside, but placed a hand on McCoy's chest first and said, "I'm backing you up, Leonard. Deal with it."

He rolled his eyes and followed her inside.

The rest of the evening was quiet with only a few calls. Chapel seemed to be a little less distracted and they eventually had a good debate over the latest treatment he'd read about.

They had less than half an hour to go before the early morning shift arrived, and were sitting in the lab when the comm chimed.

Chapel answered and made sure it went to speaker. "Student Infirmary."

"Nurse Chapel?" a cultured voice inquired.

They both froze. It was the doctor in charge of the supervision of the infirmary. The report about the cadet must have already made its way over to him. McCoy made a face.

"Yes, Doctor Grant," she said. "This is Chapel."

"Is McCoy there too?" Grant asked.

"McCoy here," he said. "What can I do for you, sir?"

Grant snorted. "I seriously doubt you following protocol and calling me 'sir' at this point will do you any favors, McCoy. Did you or did you not perform an invasive procedure this evening? The question is directed at both of you, by the way."

"Under my orders, due to the fact that although the wound wasn't critical, the patient was going into shock, I could not allow for that kind of condition to just go untreated," McCoy said. "It was a simple extraction and suture."

"Nurse Chapel?" Grant said.

"Nurse Chapel was following my orders-" McCoy said ignoring Chapel's glare.

"I was asking Nurse Chapel, McCoy," Grant interrupted.

"Yes, sir. That is exactly what happened," she said her eyes daring McCoy to say something else. "The situation was serious but the procedure was a simple one and neither of us saw any reason to let the cadet suffer due to the hospital's lack of managerial foresight."

McCoy was impressed that she managed to somehow blame the hospital for their breach of protocol.

A deep sigh came over the comm.

"It is only because the two of you are the best in your respective fields that you are able to get away with your blatant disregard for the rules," Grant said. "You will both, however, report to the Discipline Committee on Monday and attend however many seminars they deem necessary to throw at you until you learn to accept that procedures exist for a reason and things should be done by the book."

"With all due respect, sir, sometimes the book doesn't have all the answers," McCoy said.

"And that, doctor, is the only reason your punishment isn't a severe one. However, you are still a Cadet at this Academy," Grant said. "Therefore, you will also be signing up to teach rudimentary health care and sanitation practices needed in space travel to the first years at the local elementary school. I understand you have a passion for the subject, so it shouldn't be too much of a hardship."

McCoy gritted his teeth and said, "It would be a pleasure."

Chapel bit her lip to stifle her laugh.

"Good," Grant said. McCoy could practically see the fastidious little man gloating over the connection. "The young man is recovering nicely and you two did a very good job on his leg. In the future, please attempt to show some restraint before you unashamedly break the rules."

Grant hung up. Chapel pressed the disconnect button and wouldn't meet McCoy's eyes.

He scowled at her and said, "You can laugh now."

She did. Heartily, in fact. When she was finished, she said, "And here I thought I had things to worry about."

McCoy just groaned and slumped down in his chair.

The morning crew finally turned up and McCoy had never been happier to see daylight when they left the infirmary. He rubbed his face with one hand and yawned. Chapel just lifted her face up towards the sky and closed her eyes. McCoy checked his watch: it was just past 0600 hours.

"Heading home?" he asked.

Chapel tilted her head and thought for a moment. She opened her eyes and said, "I think I may take the long way actually. Get some air."

"I'll walk you," he said. She must have been more tired than usual, because she didn't even offer up her token refusal.

They headed in the opposite direction of her building and walked along the path that would take them by the water. The campus was slowly beginning to show signs of life. They gravitated towards the platform that let them look out over the bay. Chapel let her hands rest lightly on the guardrail as McCoy leaned fully on his arms and hunched over to look down at the water lapping at the concrete wall below.

The only sounds were the soft thumps the early morning joggers made as they passed on the sidewalk behind them and the rumble of maintenance vehicles.

Chapel let out a quiet sigh that McCoy would have missed if he hadn't been so attuned to her.

"Still worried?" he asked.

"Not worried," she said. "More like conflicted."

McCoy nodded. She turned around to face the way they had just walked and rested her back against the rail. He straightened up a little and just looked at her. A little grin started to appear on her face.

"At least I don't have to lecture a bunch of ten year-olds about cleanliness," she said.

"Oh thanks, Chapel. Because, I really needed the reminder," he said twisting his lips in exasperation.

A wind blew past them and stirred the leaves on the ground and some strands of Chapel's hair. She absently tucked them behind her ear and slouched a little.

"I'm honestly not sure of what to do," she said. "God, to go back up there. Say what you will about the danger and the disease, it's the most amazing feeling in the world to see all that space stretched out in front of you."

McCoy snorted. "I'll take your word for it."

"Just you wait," she said playfully bumping his shoulder with hers. "You'll get it one of these days."

He bumped her back. "If by 'it' you mean Coridian Herpes, I'll pass."

Christine just shook her head in amusement and looked thoughtfully at the ground. "Thanks, McCoy."

"For--?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said raising her head to look at him. "Just thanks."

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Have I helped you come to a life-changing decision?"

"Ha! You're good, Doctor, but you're not that good," she said with a smirk of her own.

"Why, Nurse Chapel. Is that a challenge?" McCoy asked. He realized that he was leaning slightly into her and that her face was only inches away.

She must have had the same realization because the smirk fell from her face and she swallowed. "If it is?" she quietly asked.

He watched her eyes flicker down to his lips and he felt the pull of her begin somewhere in his solar plexus. Another breeze came past and the same unruly strands of her hair teased her cheek. Before he could stop himself, he trailed a finger down the side of her face, collecting the fine hairs and tucking them gently behind her ear. The same finger gently traced the shell of her ear cataloguing how soft it was, how dark her eyes were, how this minute touch caused her entire body to shiver and her lips to part.

McCoy leaned in and her eyes fluttered shut.

The loud insistent beeping of a sidewalk cleaner drone right behind Christine caused them to spring apart. They flattened themselves against the guardrail to let the thing pass and McCoy had never before wished to rip something into pieces with his bare hands as much as he did right then.

Christine's face turned red and she was looking down at the ground with a rueful smile. They finally looked awkwardly at one another.

"I should…" she gestured in the direction of her building.

"Me too," he said. "I've got a class at 1100."

"Yeah," she said. "Have fun with that."

McCoy all of a sudden felt too big standing next to her slim figure and his hands hung heavily by his side.

But, then she looked up at him and grinned. "Be seein' you, Doctor McCoy," echoing his words from their first meeting.

He smirked at her. "Good night, Chapel."

"Nope," she said still smiling as she started to walk backwards away from him. She pointed at the sun. "Good morning!"

With a cheeky turn on her heel, she walked off towards her apartment building. McCoy leaned against the guardrail and watched her go. Then he mentally kicked his own ass and with mumbled, "Smooth, old man," he headed off to his own dorm.

By the time he'd reached his room and keyed in he'd figured out his plan of action; because, there was now ample evidence that a plan of action was called for. After all, she certainly hadn't run away shrieking. He couldn't stop the grin from appearing as the sight of her parted lips flashed behind his eyes.

McCoy ignored the unintelligible noises that Jim made when the lights came on and headed for the sonic shower. His plan was simple: ask her out for a cup of coffee at their next shift on Friday. As long as he managed not to talk himself out of it.

McCoy fell onto his bed to take a short nap before his class feeling pretty good.

His mood took a downturn that afternoon when Jim told him he was taking the Kobayashi Maru again. And suddenly, everyone's choices were made for them.

[Epilogue](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/25770.html#cutid1)   



	5. The Feeling of Being in Motion Again

  
**Title:** The Feeling of Being in Motion Again  
 **Series:** Going to Georgia  
 **Pairing(s):** McCoy/Chapel UST  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own _Star Trek_. Someone else far cleverer than me does. The titles and excerpts are from _Going to Georgia_ by the Mountain Goats.  
 **A/N at the end of the chapter**  
[Chapter One](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/22149.html) [Chapter Two](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/22433.html) [Chapter Two Outtake](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/22617.html) [Chapter Three](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/23375.html) [McCoy's Hands aka The Danger of Practicing Field Medicine](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/20873.html) This is the 'outtake' that started it all! It comes in between Chapter Three and Four. [Chapter Four](http://seren-ccd.livejournal.com/25087.html#cutid1)  
  


 

The sun was low in the sky, but still shone brightly on the assembled crowd. It was the height of summer and the heat was still oppressive even this late in the day. A bead of sweat trickled down Christine's back underneath her dress uniform as she walked to take a seat a few rows back from the podium. She kept her eyes on the screen on the platform in front and, not for the first time, felt the weight of so much lost settle in her chest. Her throat tightened.

A shadow fell over her and without looking up, she knew who it was.

"I wasn't sure if you'd be able to come," she said softly.

"He was a fine doctor," McCoy said. "I wanted to pay my respects."

Christine moved her legs so that he could squeeze past. He settled down in the seat beside her and his shoulder brushed slightly against her.

"I also thought you might like some company," he added.

"I do," she said. "Thank you."

She lightly pressed her shoulder to his and left it there. He made no attempt to move away.

The eulogies for Dr. Rajesh Puri were heartfelt and honest. The outpouring of respect and gratitude for the lives he'd saved and changed over his many years of service were numerous and widespread. Christine felt lucky to have had the chance to work with him and tried to focus on the doctor's visage on the screen, the one that showed him smiling and patient. Not the image she had been left with when the recovery crew brought his body back from the wreckage of deck six. Despite the heat, Christine shuddered. McCoy just increased the pressure against her arm.

Memories of the ordeal with the _Narada_ tended to come back to her in flashes during the day and in her dreams at night.

She distinctly remembered being in a class when the call from Vulcan came and she had been ordered to report to the sickbay on the _Enterprise_. Christine still hadn't figured out if it was irony or fate that she hadn't decided whether or not take the Head Nurse commission Pike had offered. Calling it fate certainly sounded better than calling it ironic.

Everything after that was a blur of inventory, names and doling out assignments. Then after the torpedoes hit and evacuees were brought on board it became sheer, utter _work_. Endless hours of triage and then endless hours of surgery. She managed to emerge mostly unscathed baring a bruise on the side of her face when she was slammed into a wall during the first attack. It wasn't until hours later when she went to change her filthy uniform that she noticed all the finger-sized bruises around her wrists and arms from various patients looking for something to grip when they cried out in pain.

Her clearest memory was the operation that removed the Centaurian slug from Captain Pike. She remembered every detail of those five hours, beginning with the call to the transporter room to assist, to the painstaking precision the senior medical officers exercised in the extraction. The most vivid part being the terrible lurch the ship made when the warp core was ejected.

She's woken up on the floor next to her bed after a nightmare too many times now to count.

Christine came back to the present as the last eulogy was given and everyone stood for a moment of silence. Then the crowd solemnly dispersed. She nodded to Dr. M'Benga and a few other familiar faces. McCoy stopped to talk to another doctor and she chatted for a minute with one of the nurses and her husband. They eventually found each other again and headed away from the memorial.

The breeze had finally picked up and Chapel gave into the urge to unbutton her top button. McCoy just shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Buy you a drink?" McCoy asked. She looked over at him in mild surprise. He was just staring straight ahead of him, eyes focused on the horizon.

"I'd love one," she said. He offered her his arm still not looking at her. She allowed herself a small smile and slipped her hand through his crooked elbow. He pulled his elbow back to secure her hold on him.

"Ship and Castle all right?" he asked.

"It's perfect."

They headed away from the campus towards the bar she'd been a few times before with him and Jim.

"Did I tell you I ran into Dr. Grant a few days ago?" he said.

"The infirmary supervisor?"

"The very one. He said in light of the recent events, we no longer need to present ourselves to the Disciplinary Committee and apparently my future as a primary school teacher has been delayed indefinitely," McCoy said in a deadpan that induced Christine to grin.

"Aww, and you were so looking forward to that," she said. "What a shame. All those impressionable young minds."

"I'm not sure how I'm going to cope," he said.

Silence fell after that, because the amount of truth in that statement was not exactly funny.

They arrived at the bar just as the street lights turned on. He loosened his arm to let her enter first and she blinked to adjust her eyes to the dim lighting inside. She headed straight for the bar, McCoy right behind her.

The bartender approached with a genial, "What'll you have?"

"Bourbon, straight up," McCoy said. He looked at Christine and asked, "Gin and tonic?"

"Not tonight," she said. "I'll have whiskey, neat, water back."

McCoy smirked his approval and said to the bartender, "You heard the lady."

They leaned against the bar and waited for their drinks in silence. Once their drinks were handed over to them, they turned to find a booth. Christine slid onto her side while McCoy just seemed to land on his.

"To... Aw hell, what do you want to drink to?" he asked.

Christine thought for a second. "I don't know."

"Cheers, then," he said. She repeated the sentiment and they clinked their glasses together. The whiskey was warm and smooth and hit her in all the right places.

"I saw Pike this morning," McCoy said.

"I'd heard you were asked to be on his recovery team," she said.

"Yeah, well, they needed someone to tell them about the initial mess those bastards left of his nervous system. Looks like he'll be okay. Got a lot of physio ahead of him, but the man's a goddamn fighter."

"Yes, yes he is. Speaking of fighters, how's Jim?"

"Freaking out. Or maybe he's thriving. Hard to tell the difference. Hasn't been able to sleep for more than three hours since it all happened."

"Who can?"

"Tell me about it. He's been stuck in a meeting all day. He was going to meet us at the memorial, but it must have gone into overtime." McCoy took a healthy swig of his drink. "What are your plans?"

"Plans? Do you mean long term or for the next hour?" she asked over her glass before taking a sip.

"How about something in between?"

"Well, I plan to drink the rest of this whiskey and then coyly bat my eyelashes at you so you'll get me another one," she said. He snorted, but tipped his head in acquiescence. "Then tomorrow morning I have an appointment with an appointed psychiatrist to discuss my current state of mind."

"I had mine last week," he said. "She told me to schedule at least five more."

"I bet."

"So how is your current state of mind?"

"I keep falling out of bed," she said wryly. "You?"

"I've torn apart three pillows in the last week."

"Is that a new record?"

"Yep."

She lifted her glass. "Congratulations."

"Thanks."

They clinked their nearly empty glasses together, and then drained them.

"Another?"

"God, yes."

"You promised me a coy look."

Christine ducked her head and then peered up at him through fluttering eyelashes. He chuckled. "That'll do." Then he headed over to the bar and she restrained from actually watching him saunter up to the bar.

Oh, heck, of course she watched him. As much as she wanted to admit to the contrary, she drank in the sight of his profile.

Friendly banter aside, she hadn't actually seen McCoy in a few weeks. Once the _Enterprise_ had been towed back to Earth, the bureaucrats took over. Everyone had been de-briefed and then briefed and then de-briefed again. She'd catch glimpses of the crew in hallways, but the officials were taking care to keep them separated, 'to make sure the facts stood by themselves' was what one advisor said. She'd communicated with Nyota a few times and had visited some of her patients, now situated in the Academy hospital. She hadn't been given any orders yet and felt like she was just floating in uncertain waters. When Christine got the message about Dr. Puri's memorial service, she'd automatically forwarded it to McCoy.

She watched him throw a few peanuts into his mouth from the bowl on the counter and studied the line of his jaw.

"You stare at him any harder and one of you is going to burst into flames," an amused voice said from just behind her. Christine looked up and discovered a grinning Nyota.

"Hey, you," she said standing up. They hugged briefly but firmly. "It's good to see you."

"You too," Nyota said. "How was the memorial?"

Christine lifted a shoulder, but said, "Nice, actually. You had another briefing, didn't you? How did it go?"

"Awful," she said crossing her arms over her chest. "At one point I started speaking in Swahili, because they obviously didn't understand my Standard, seeing as how they repeated the same questions they asked me last week."

"I'm sure that went over well."

"I think the point was made, they didn't ask me to come back," Nyota said with a satisfied quirk to her mouth. "You're here with McCoy?"

"Yes. Well, sort of," she said. "He came to the memorial. And then we came here."

"Nice of him."

"It was. What about you?"

"Oh, well." Nyota glanced at the bar and Christine followed her line of sight. She saw Commander Spock standing stiffly next to a now equally stiff McCoy.

"Oh, I see," Christine said. She looked at her friend. "Things okay?"

"They're... Getting there, I hope," she said. "I'm afraid he's thinking of leaving. Going to the new Vulcan colony."

"And if he is?" Christine asked carefully. "What are you thinking?"

"Honestly?" Nyota asked. "I'm trying not to. At least not for another twenty-four hours. Then I'll start thinking."

"Well, it's always good to have a plan," Christine said nodding seriously. Nyota shot her a mock glare to which Christine just shrugged. Their attention returned to the gentlemen who were approaching the table, drinks in hand.

"Good evening, Lieutenant Chapel," Spock said.

"Good evening, Commander."

"Uhura," McCoy said with a nod.

"Doctor."

_Oh for heaven's sake,_ Christine thought. "Would you two like to join us?" she asked. She saw McCoy swallow hard and mentally commended his restraint.

"Oh, no, Christine. That's okay," Nyota said. "We've... We..." She trailed off and looked at Spock who was still holding their drinks.

"We have things to discuss and do not wish to intrude," he supplied.

"Fair enough," McCoy said in relief as he sat down.

"I'm going to see Gaila tomorrow," Nyota said. "They're finally letting her use her arm again and she said she's craving fresh fruit. Apparently, the hospital's supply is abysmal. Do you want to come?"

"I've got a list of old 20th century science fiction novels for her to make fun of, so yes, absolutely," Christine said. "I'd love to see her."

"And double check her diagnosis and treatment program?" McCoy asked with a smirk.

"Are you saying you haven't?" Christine asked. He held his glass up to her in a silent touchè. She turned back to Nyota. "1100 hours okay?"

"Meet you out in front." The women hugged and said good-bye.

"Lieutenant, Doctor," Spock said as he nodded to each of them.

"Commander."

"Spock." McCoy watched as Nyota and Spock walked over to a vacant booth towards the back of the bar. He shook his head.

"What?" Christine asked. She sat down and took a belt from her whiskey.

"Just," he said jerking his head in their direction before taking a swig, "did not see that coming."

"Really?" Christine looked over her shoulder at the couple sitting and talking quietly. Nyota had her hands wrapped around her glass as did Spock. Every now and then, they would brush their knuckles together. "It's been in the making for a while now."

"It has?" McCoy asked looking at Christine in surprise. "Since when?"

"Oh, as long as I've known her," she said. "Probably goes back a ways before then."

McCoy narrowed his eyes. "Son of a bitch. That's who you were talking about? Spock?"

"What? When was I talking about what?"

"That day. The trifecta!"

Christine furrowed her brow and then her eyes widened. "Oh! That."

"Yeah, that," McCoy said. He swallowed a large gulp. "Tall, dark and handsome and you were talking about Spock. _Christ._ "

"Well, umm... He is," she said. He rolled his eyes and stared down at his drink. "But, so are you!"

He slowly dragged his eyes up to hers and she felt her cheeks burn.

_Oh, nice, Christine,_ she thought. _Once again, we are reminded why you should eat something before you drink._

"Is that so?" he asked arching a brow.

"Yes," she said evenly. _Oh go for it. You can't make it any worse._ "You are. Not like Spock. All polished and austere. You're..." She took a drink and gasped a little at the burn.

"I'm-?" he prompted, his lips quirking up.

"You're... Raw," she said. She met his eyes. "You're the most honest and raw person I've ever met. And I'm glad you came to the memorial today. I...wanted to see you."

McCoy just stared back at her with dark, warm eyes. "Aw hell, Christine. You better remind me that I'm a gentleman and that I don't take women home with me after goddamned funerals."

The rasp in his voice and the desire that washed over took her aback. She could go to bed with this man, her friend, her colleague and it had the potential, no-- it was an absolute that it would be earth-moving. But, it wouldn't be _right_. And it wouldn't be fair to either of them. Not right now.

Armed with this abrupt knowledge, she felt empowered and a little overwhelmed. However, Christine couldn't help the smile that formed. "You're a gentleman, Leonard."

"We sure about that?" he asked, his voice light and teasing, but his eyes remained serious.

"It's one of the only constants in my life right now," she said, Then traced a finger around the rim of her glass and teased, "Besides, it would just give the shrink more fodder if I turned up looking like I hadn't gotten any sleep at all." She looked up from her glass. "I'm assuming that's how I would be looking?"

"Oh, darlin', I can guarantee that's how you'd be looking," he said with an easy grin. "But one of these days, Christine, I'm going to forget my manners."

"Promise?"

"Cross my goddamn heart."

She felt giddy. Maybe it was the whiskey and her empty stomach, or maybe it was the promise of more someday, whatever it was, she started giggling. McCoy just shook his head and laughed at her.

They had one more drink and shared "Denobulan" nachos that were no different from any Earth variety, except the fact that the chips were different colors. They chatted about some of their patients and thought up of good lines for Christine to feed to the psychiatrist, all designed to ensure this was the only session she had to endure. She paused the conversation once to wave good-bye to Nyota as she and Spock left. McCoy just rolled his eyes.

The bar started to get to crowded and Christine couldn't hide the yawn that escaped, so they left. They were halfway down the street when the familiar shout of 'Bones!' stopped them. Jim Kirk jogged up to them.

"Hey, guys," he said. "I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier."

"Did you just get out?" McCoy asked. He checked the time. "It's 2100 hours."

"Yeah, believe me, I know," Jim said. He looked a little shell-shocked. "It's... Man, I don't have words for what's going on."

Christine and McCoy shared a worried look.

"Are you okay?" Christine asked.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. Then he looked at McCoy and grinned wildly. "I've got to talk to you."

McCoy frowned. "Okay. Let me walk Christine home."

"You don't--"

"Woman! I swear to God. I'm walking you home."

"All right! Don't get all huffy."

"I really do love watching you two."

The trip back to her apartment was mostly silent, Jim seemed very preoccupied with whatever was on his mind and McCoy appeared to be content just to walk. Once they got there, Jim turned to her and with a serious expression asked, "Do you have any plans for the next week or so?"

"Ah, not really," she said.

"Good," he said. "There may be a thing next week or the week after."

"A thing?" she asked.

He nodded. "An important thing."

"And you can't be more specific?"

"Not right now."

"Hunh," she said. "Well, I should be around."

"Good," he said. Then that wild grin resurfaced. "That's awesome."

"O-kay," she said. She looked at McCoy who just made a face and shrugged his shoulders. "I'll say good night, then."

"Night!" Jim said.

"Good night, Christine," McCoy said, his eyes still heavy with his promise.

She let a corner of her mouth turn up. "Good night, Leonard."

As she entered her building she heard, "Oh, so it's _Leonard_ , is it?" Followed shortly by, "Bite me. Now, what the hell is going on?"

The 'thing' turned out to be the ceremony in which James T. Kirk was awarded the _USS Enterprise_. Throughout the ceremony, Christine expected to feel some sort of disbelief at this incredible turn of events. But when she saw Jim relieve Admiral Pike, all she felt was honored to know and to have served with all these amazing people.

Precisely a week later, Christine found herself once again waiting in the former-Captain Pike's office. Her hair was pulled back and her uniform was neatly pressed. The door to the office opened and the receptionist stood up quickly, but Jim Kirk just waved at her.

"Sorry, Miss Miller," he said with a wince. "I promise to let you announce the next visitor."

"You've said that for the last four," Miss Miller said disapprovingly. "Lieutenant Chapel is here for you."

"Thank you." Jim grinned at Christine who stood up and walked over. "Lieutenant, after you."

"Thank you, captain," she said entering the office where Admiral Pike and McCoy were waiting for her. Still in his wheelchair, Admiral Pike came over to shake her hand.

"Lieutenant, as always, a pleasure to see you," he said. He glanced around the room, then back at her with a glint in his eyes. "Deja vu all over again?"

"Something like that, admiral," she said with a slight nod. "And the pleasure is mine."

"Lieutenant Chapel," McCoy said from his position next to the desk. One corner of his mouth turned up.

"Lieutenant McCoy."

"Well, now that we've established who we all are, take a seat, lieutenant," Jim said gesturing to a chair in front of the desk. Admiral Pike pulled back to a position next to the desk and McCoy dropped into the chair next to Christine. "I have to say, lieutenant, your record is outstanding. You've shown great aptitude for stressful situations, your work planetside and during missions is exemplary. You have a remarkable-- Oh, forget it. Christine, I'd like you be the _Enterprise_ 's Head Nurse."

Christine blinked at the sudden departure from the formalities. Pike coughed into his hand.

"I know, admiral, I apologize for the informality, but the first time I met this woman I told her she smelled like cookies," Jim said. He pinned Christine with a serious look. "Fact is you're a great nurse. Another fact is that guy—" He pointed to McCoy. "—is one of the few people who can keep me in line. Which leads me to the final fact, which is you're one of the few people who can keep _him_ in line. Not only would you be serving the Federation by taking this commission, you'd be serving the known universe."

She opened her mouth to say something, but Jim interrupted her. "Wait. I know that you are still in the middle of medical school. The last thing I'm going to do is order you to give that up. This is a choice. I want you on my ship. But, I only want you there if you want to be there."

Christine studied the captain. It struck her that the last time she was in this office the weight of such a choice was staggering. However, now there was really no choice here to be made. She raised her head.

"Gentlemen, I can honestly say that there is no place I would rather be than on the _Enterprise_." She spared a quick glance at McCoy. The assignment, like their relationship, promised more than she'd ever imagined. She allowed her smile to come through. "Thank you. I gladly accept the commission."

_FIN_

**A/N:** A massive **Thank You** to everyone who has read and reviewed. Honestly, this started out as a one-shot, but your comments have spurred me on. I hope you have enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. A very, very big thank you must go to my 'most excellent' beta, **Kerichi** , who has helped me reign in my adverbs and provided a much-needed sounding board. I will be back with a sequel in a few weeks! Please, do let me know your thoughts on the epilogue and I will see you all soon when I return with:

_A rash of illnesses threatens the crew of USS Enterprise. Will the cure be found? And will Doctor McCoy ever truly ask Nurse Chapel out on a date?_ Stay tuned for **Standing in the Doorway** , the next adventure in the **Going to Georgia** series!  



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